Love and Basketball
by Dance Elle Dance
Summary: On her new job as a writer for a magazine, Bella is assigned to do an article about basketball star and hot bachelor, Jasper. Problem is, Bella has no interest in sports, but she finds herself very interested in the object of her paper. Jas/B, AU/AH
1. The Assignment

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own Twilight._

**_Summary: On her new job as a writer for Elle magazine, Bella is assigned to do an article about upcoming basketball star and hot bachelor, Jasper Hale. Problem is, Bella has no interest in sports…but she finds herself very interested in the object of her paper. JasperBella, AU/AH_**

_Don't kill me! I know I should be working on other fics, but this one just stuck in my head and I couldn't get it out. So I decided to write the first chapter to just get it out of my mind. And well, I also felt like doing a light hearted fic. My other two chapter fics are so…serious in tone, and I really wanted to do something fun and light. _

_And for the non-basketball people…just give it a try! You might like it. (insert wink here) You don't have to know much about basketball to read this fic. As Bella is in this story, she has no clue either! Haha._

_Here's the first chapter! Enjoy!_

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**Love and Basketball  
****Chapter One: The Assignment**

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**Bella.**

_Elle _magazine is apparently one of the most elite, fashion forward magazines in United States. Popular and well-written, they sell tons of copies each month when a new issue comes out, as well as the subscribers that get it in their mailboxes every month.

And, I had just landed a job with them.

Something I'd always dreamed of was being a writer, and now I had that chance. Though it wasn't a book contract, anything was a start. And even though I rarely read the girly magazines about clothes and everything, I was glad to be writing something that wasn't for the high school or college newspaper. It was for an actual magazine, and a famous one at that.

I looked forward to writing the important articles, like something for an advice column or maybe even something with an important political twist or something about kids in Africa. Something that mattered, but I was not expecting what I was first assigned when I walked through the doors of the illustrious _Elle _headquarters.

It wasn't my first day on the job. I had been working odd jobs around the place for a while, and they finally got me a place on the staff. Editing, and the occasional article would be written by me, and they found that some of my pieces were rather good, so they gave me a full time spot on their staff. But though it was far from my first time in the building, I felt a strange sense of nerves overcome me. I supposed it was because this was the first time I had ever been called in to do a job of this magnitude.

I walked down the hall, my shoes muted against the tile of the store. Unlike all the other bimbos who wore the strappy, twelve inch stilettos, I opted for ballet flats. My equilibrium was already something that was terribly unbalanced, so I didn't want to tempt fate by allowing people even more cause to laugh at me.

I knocked on the door where I would have my first meeting with the major editor of this office of the magazine, and heard her soft voice tell me to come in.

I opened the door, exhaling loudly and deeply as I said so.

"Bella," Esme Cullen smiled at me, "come in."

I was glad that Esme was a kind woman, not like Meryl Streep in _The Devil Wears Prada_, thank the Lord. If anything, she was the total opposite, but she had her methods of getting things her way. Just because she was nice didn't mean she was a pushover.

"Good morning, Mrs. Cullen." I said, taking my seat in the empty chair that was across from her, only her pristine, marble desk separated us.

She leaned forward slightly, adjusting herself in her cushioned chair, the ringlets of honey brown hair adorning her head jostling as she did so. Her kind green eyes looked at me with a smile, "Please, just Esme."

I smiled and nodded, "Esme."

Esme grinned at that, showcasing a row of teeth that were perfectly aligned and white. She gave a little nod in approval and then she went on with what she was going to say, "I'm glad to have you in our official staff of the magazine, Bella."

I grinned all the wider, "Glad to be here."

She smiled back, and the very gesture seemed very motherly - it made a sudden, sharp tug at my heart as I remembered I hadn't called my mother in little over a month. _Way to go, Bella. You're a real piece of work._

"Now," Esme spoke, "you know this will be your first major article. It might take some time, since the person you're interviewing is very busy these days…a _rising star_, everyone is saying."

I paused, my eyes growing wide like saucers. She was giving me an interview with a celebrity already? I felt my palms grow clammy. I hadn't expected this of all things. If anything, I expected her to make me sit during a fashion show and snap pictures, while writing comments about the clothes - something that made me cringe internally, but it was something my roommate Angela would love.

"But I think you can handle it. Many others were clamoring to do this, but I, personally, love your work and I think you can do the best job on it."

I felt my heart stumble around in my chest as pride swelled within me. That was one of the biggest compliments I've ever received, and coming from the editor of a major magazine? That was something I could never put a price on. Something I never wanted to forget, not for as long as I lived. I hadn't been in the business long, and this critique was something to cherish.

"You're going to be interviewing Jasper Hale."

I quirked a brow. Who the hell was_ that_?

Esme laughed, no doubt at my expression. I was never good with hiding my emotions, especially not ones of bafflement.

"Here…" She retrieved a picture from a folder to her side and slid it across the slick tabletop with her index finger. "This is Jasper."

My eyes widened even more, if that was possible.

The man on the picture was definitely attractive. He had a mop of messy, honey blonde hair atop his head, and a pair of the most piercing crystal blue eyes I'd ever seen. He was tall, lean, and muscular, his wiry frame encased by some sort of jersey in a shade of deep blue with slight white pinstripes that showcased his toned arms. The number '10' was on his chest, below the word 'Orlando' on the front and he had an orange basketball tucked beneath one impeccably toned arm. I held my breath as I gazed at this man who was now known to me as Jasper Hale.

Esme laughed, "You don't watch much sports, do you, Bella?"

Blinking myself out of my trance, I looked back up at my boss, my cheeks flushed, "Not particularly."

"And you don't watch the E! network either, I assume."

I shook my head no.

The honeyed brunette chuckled to herself. "His face has been everywhere in the past three months. After getting drafted as a first round pick to the NBA, he's become the Orlando Magic's star shooting guard."

I laughed, before saying, "Sounds like you know your sports, Esme."

"Carlisle's a huge basketball fan." She said, her voice wrapping around her husband's name like a warm blanket. "He's more of a Lakers fan himself." She winked at me before saying, "But don't tell anyone. He's got season tickets to the Knicks and if they found out about him going to see anyone _other _than the Knicks…well, that wouldn't look good. Since this _is _New York after all. He'd look like a traitor." She stuck out her tongue playfully before giggling.

I laughed, remembering for a moment that I'd heard my friend saying the Knicks were getting better, but were far from playoff material. I didn't know what that meant at the time, but I could guess. "Say that to my dad." I said, smiling, "We grew up in Washington, and - "

"Ah, the Wizards. I understand completely." Esme said, smiling in humored apathy, "Who does your father favor, then?"

"I've heard him say something about…the Suns?" I questioned, not exactly sure of myself.

A smile curved Esme's lips, "Steve Nash. Now there's a cutie."

I blushed, feeling strange at the familiarity of the conversation, but laughed along anyway. I then spoke again, wondering why _Elle _would want to do an article on a _basketball player_. This was a fashion magazine, after all. And unless pathetically skinny models were walking down the runway clad only in jersey dresses, or Kim Kardashian was back with Reggie Bush, I didn't think we'd cover it. "So…why am I interviewing him?"

"Well, look at him." Esme made a gesture with her hand, motioning to the paper below. I looked down and saw him yet again, and a strange feeling bubbled in my chest. His smile was broad and happy, something that I had rarely seen since I'd been to New York. Most of the people here grunted and growled and complained about the traffic and whatnot. I had yet to see a smile so breathtaking in this city.

"Uh…yeah?" I questioned, feeling like a moron.

"What do you think when you first see him?"

"That…he's hot?" I said, voicing it as a question yet again. I felt like a cave person who had yet to create fire.

Esme laughed at that and said, "And he's on _People_ magazine's 50 Hottest Bachelors." She said, flopping a copy of said magazine on the polished table. "Number six on the entire list. Now that's something."

"It is." I said in awe, gazing at his picture that was in the corner of the magazine, almost out shadowed by the larger image of Chace Crawford that graced the front. How had I not known about him until now? I knew I didn't give a rat's ass about sports, but I thought I'd at least see him on the news or something. Maybe even in another magazine. But I tended to read novels instead of magazines, unless I was in the doctor's office, or at my job. I still hadn't even heard of this attractive athlete, and frankly, it was frustrating.

"Every month, we interview a rather new, up-and-coming male star - and in this case, athlete." Esme smiled as she took in my curious expression, "And we write an article on them. Usually, it's either three or four pages long, not including the photo shoot we usually do with them."

_Three or four pages? _Those simple words caused me to get excited. Three or four pages of _Elle _magazine would be filled with my work? I was almost rendered speechless.

"He lives in Orlando, of course. To keep up with his job. So you'll go down there and interview him." Esme said, her soft voice lulling like a soothing song. "If it weren't for his scheduling with games and everything, he would've come up here, but I hope you understand."

I nodded, secretly relishing the fact that I would get to go to Florida. New York wasn't necessarily the most sunny place in the world, and I was looking forward to basking in the bright rays of the Sunshine State. Even though it was mid-January, I figured that it would still be somewhat hot there.

"Regarding the photo shoot, Edward will be making the trip with you down there, and you two will bring Mr. Hale to the office we have down in Miami, where he will do the photo shoot with Edward."

I smiled. Edward Cullen was Esme's son. He was somewhat quiet, but he was suited to work here. He was a famous photographer, known by fashion enthusiasts and models everywhere in the US. I wasn't the least bit worried about taking the trip with him, though. To say the least, Edward wasn't interested in women. Nevertheless, he was one of the first people who befriended me here at my new job; he would come to my cubicle when I first started working and just talk, pointedly ignoring the women who tried to hit on him.

"What does '_I'm gay_' even mean to these people anymore?" He had once told me as he took an apple from my desk and chomped down. I had only laughed in response.

"I thought you'd like it if Edward came with you." Esme smiled at me like a mother would her daughter and I felt that stab of guilt again, "You two seemed close, so I thought why not? And this would give Edward more to put on his résumé, of course." She doted like a loving mother would.

I smiled, "Yes. I'm really glad that this is what you decided, Esme."

Esme grinned back and took the picture of Jasper from my hands, slipping it into a generously filled manila folder that had _Jasper Hale _written in big black letters before handing it over to me. "Here's everything you need to know. There are questions on several sheets of paper. You can pick and choose if you like, but if you want more material, you can ask him all of them. That'll give you more to work with."

I took the folder from her with shaking hands, "Thank you."

"You'll leave in two days. So be prepared. Pack heavy, you might be there for a while."

"When is the article due?"

"It's going to run in the May issue." Esme stated, and I could see the wheels of thought turning behind her eyes. "So…be back here around April. Yes, it's a big window, but this was the only time Jasper's agent could schedule anything. And, since you've really worked so hard before you got this job, I figured you'd like the time in Florida." She winked at me, and immediately I felt so much joy at having such a nice person as my boss.

"Thank you, Esme!" I said, unable to hold back my emotion. "I appreciate it so much."

Esme nodded sagely and smiled, "No problem. I'll give you the exact date when I need you back when it gets closer to time." She rose from her seat

I nodded, mirroring her and lifting myself from my seat, clutching the folder tightly to my chest. "Thank you so much." I held out my hand for her to shake. She gripped it firmly with her delicate, feminine hands and shook several times before letting go.

"Again, no problem." She stated, "Now, get off so you can get to packing!"

"Of course." I said, turning to the door, my feet eager to get moving. Two days. I was going to be in Florida in two days! "Thank you!"

"Bye, Bella." Esme laughed, as if she were amused by a child.

"Bye!"

And I turned on a heel, headed for my apartment, ready for the job assigned to me.

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I settled down in my seat, just getting back from a bathroom break and sighed. The airplane was nice and all, but I never enjoyed long rides in confined spaces.

"Join the mile high club?" Edward asked with a smarmy smirk on his full lips.

I scoffed, "Oh, yes, darling. With that studly piece of man meat over there."

I pointed in the direction of the extremely overweight man across from us, who was currently sleeping, his mouth hanging open and the remnants of his in-flight meal on a tray in front of his round stomach. He was balding, and clearly in his late forties.

"You sure know how to pick 'em." Edward laughed.

I laughed along, nuzzling back into my seat. The flight had seemed to take forever, and at the moment we were just over Virginia, if the pilot knew what he was talking about - and I frantically hoped he did.

"Mom really knows how to ride in style." Edward drawled lazily, ruffling around in his carryon bag for a stick of gum.

I could only nod, looking around at the first class accommodations in utter awe. My own carryon bag contained a few books and crossword puzzles, along with my iPod and the folder about Jasper. I hadn't really bothered to look at, being as caught up in a whirlwind as I was, so I decided to take it on the plane and read it on the way to Florida.

"What's that?" He spoke, his eloquently soft tones right in my ear.

I pushed my hand on his cheek and pushed his face away from the folder that lay in my lap. "Nosy."

He removed my hand from his cheek and let it drop between us. "I'm traveling with you, remember? And, technically, anything that is in my line of sight, that I can clearly see, isn't classified as my being nosy. It's an _observation_."

"Smartass."

"That's why you're my friend." Edward reminded playfully, patting my cheek in a mixture of affection and mockery.

I shoved him away and glared playfully, pressing the earbuds of my iPod into my ears and getting back to my studies of Jasper Hale.

Before I had to go to the unholy place that was the plane's bathroom, I had found out that Jasper Hale had gone to high school in Alabama before getting a scholarship to the University of Alabama. He played basketball there, become one of the top ten scorers in the school's history. He played out his college years and graduated, then was in the NBA draft the following year, and was picked fourth overall by the Orlando Magic.

There were other things, such as a stats page for the first half of his professional career that I couldn't understand at all. There were abbreviations like PPG% and FT% and a bunch of numbers with decimals that made me feel like I was in math class all over again. I felt my brain start to turn into mush just by looking at it, so I turned the page.

Then, in front of me, were his personal stats. He was born on March 13th, making him just a few months older than I was. He was 6'7" and weighed 161 pounds - all wiry muscle from the looks of it. He grew up with his aunt and uncle, for his mother and father had passed away when he was just a little kid. I immediately felt sadness for that situation, but also proud. Despite his parents' death, he was a famous basketball star on the rise.

There was also some trivia - his favorite basketball player was Michael Jordan, and his favorite teams growing up were the Bulls and the Lakers. His favorite food was fried chicken. He loved the beach in Florida. And he had a twin sister named Rosalie Hale, who was married to another one of the members of the team, the one that played backup center named Emmett McCarty. I smiled at that.

And there was a quote from the man himself.

"_My dad gave me my first basketball when I was eight. Taught me how to shoot properly, dribble, and everything. When he and my mother passed on…I decided to do them proud and make something of myself, using the very thing that my father taught me."_

My heart clenched in my chest. I didn't know what came over me just then, but those simple words, heartfelt and sincere, just like his smile, wrapped around my heart like a woolen coat. I might not have known him, but there was something about him that just made me feel like what he was saying was something he meant with all of his being.

Gulping, I picked up the sheet and tucked it under the others I had finished with. My eyes glanced upon the very picture of Jasper Hale that Esme had first shown me two days ago.

Looking into those baby blues of his, I felt many emotions rush through me.

One of them, most prominently, being _happiness_.

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_**End Chapter One.**_

_Well, there y'all have it! First chapter of many to come. I really have a lot of inspiration for this fic, so I hope I get some feedback so I can use that to…fuel the fire, I suppose. Haha. I've got so many ideas for this little fic… On a more random note, yesterday marked the one year anniversary of this account. Yes, I've been writing fics on another account for very long, but I just wanted to announce it for some reason. (please make it a good anniversary, wink-wink! haha)_

_For the record, my favorite team is the Lakers - which is where Carlisle got his tastes from, lol - but I decided to put Jasper on the Magic just because…well, it's something different. And my Jacob/Leah/Nessie/Seth friendship fic focused heavily on the Lakers, so I decided for something different. A new team. Haha. One that I like, but not as much as the Lakers. _

_Anyway, feel free to comment. For you fellow basketball buffs, feel free to talk. Suggest things. That's all I really have to say. I hope that everyone enjoyed this and I would love to hear everyone's opinions. Plus, today's Laker victory over the Celtics was simply wonderful! :)_

_Thanks for reading!_


	2. Fame, Fortune, and a Folly

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own Twilight._

_Thanks so much for your kind reviews! I appreciate every one of them, because I know this kind of fic - a sports fic - may not be read much because…well, it's a sports fic. I know there are some exceptions, but yeah. And plus, I'm still trying to make a name for myself on this side of the spectrum. (I think I did a decent job in my anime account, but that's another story for another day lol). So yeah, anyway, enough of my rambling, and here's chapter two!_

_A few names of real people on the team will be dropped here, and I'll explain to you who they are in the ending notes. _

_Enjoy!_

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**Love and Basketball  
****Chapter Two: Fame, Fortune, and a Folly**

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**Jasper.**

Practice was rough.

That was the understatement of the century, I supposed.

Being someone who has played basketball almost every day since they came out of their mother's womb, I've experienced varying degrees of difficult practices. There was Pee Wee practice when I was just a little kid, then Junior High, High School, and finally college, which was what some people call the hardest practice that anyone will experience.

Apparently, these people haven't been coached by Stan Van Gundy.

His loud voice permeated the air around us as we sprinted up and down the court, not stopping until he gave the go-ahead. Which he hadn't yet. If we were to stop before he said anything, we wouldn't get a water break.

So, yeah. If you say your basketball coach is tough, you don't know anything until you've had an official NBA practice with Coach Van Gundy.

I groaned and I sank into the chairs set up along the sidelines as Emmett McCarty, back-up power forward and my best friend, leaned against the Gatorade dispenser, greedily gulping all of the purple liquid he could. His brown curls were damp with sweat, and he shook them out of his eyes as he turned to look at me, his two prominent dimples popping out as he grinned down at me, "I thought he'd never let us off!"

I ran a hand through my own sweat-soaked hair, and gave a tired laugh, "Same here."

I turned my glance to the other members of the Orlando Magic - the team I was currently apart of, and felt my heart swell with pride.

Something I had loved ever since I was a little boy had been basketball. Out of all the sports I played - football and baseball being the other two I had played in moderation - none of them ever came close to basketball. There was just a thrill I got whenever I dribbled the ball down the court, or stopped to take a jumper. Or when I made a three-pointer at the buzzer…there was nothing like it.

And to think that little boy, playing basketball in the yard with his dad made the jump from high school to college basketball, finally culminating in a contract with one of the elite teams in the NBA.

I smiled to myself as I lifted the paper cup to my lips, sipping gratefully as I looked about the gym. It was empty, except for a few reporters lingering around talking to the other members of the team, and coach, who was busy talking to Dwight Howard, whose grin was as big as ever.

"You up for tonight?" Emmett asked, looking at me with a questioning glance, "We're going to _Twilight _for drinks."

"Who's going?" I asked, though I was still wondering about that. I wasn't what you'd call the 'party type'.

"Just me, hopefully you, Jake, and Garrett." He said, raking a hand through his messy curls.

"What about Jake and Garrett?" Jacob Black, our back-up power forward, jogged up to his, his messy black hair hanging in his face. His bright grin was offset by Garrett Denali's growl as he tied his messy blonde hair back into its usual ponytail.

"Just telling The Prodigy that we were going out for drinks tonight." Emmett said, jabbing his thumb in my direction.

"Ah, right." Garrett said, his hazel eyes mischievous. "On the prowl, huh?"

"Prowl?" I asked, cocking my head to the side, looking as confused as I felt. Which was a lot.

"Whoa, keep me out of this." Emmett said, flashing his ring finger, though the wedding band that my sister had given to him was out of place, "Oh…wait…it's in the locker room. But you guys get the gist of it! I'm happily married, thank you very much."

"No one said _you're _going on the prowl, Em." Jacob rolled his eyes as he reached over and grasped the paper Gatorade cup in his large hands before filling it with the purple liquid from the tap. "But, unlike you, we can't all find super smoking hot wives that actually give a shit about us."

"Well, most girls do - " Garrett started, but then he interrupted himself, "Or is that the money they always see?" He smirked to himself, placing a finger to his chin in faux-thought.

"Ah, no one will ever know." Jacob grinned, the brightness of it almost blinding.

"Hey!" Coach Van Gundy shouted, his hoarse voice echoing to us across the court. "C'mon! Let's get some suicides in before I let you leave!"

"Well, damn." Emmett said, setting his cup down on the chair beside me.

"Let's go, y'all." I said, looking over at the two and trying to smile. They looked at me exasperatedly.

"Alright, Prodigy." Garrett rolled his eyes and trotted next to me.

I tried not to think about going to the club that night as I ran up and down the court, stopping and touching the lines before shooting up and running some more. I didn't want to think that all the girls only wanted me for my money. But Garrett had planted the seed in my head. Not that I didn't have experience in that area myself…

I smiled sardonically to myself as I sprinted down the court.

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"Hey!"

I looked up, glancing around through the throng of dancing bodies, the pounding music hurt my ears. Let's just say I wasn't used to a life of partying yet. I don't think I really would ever be used to it. It was probably in relation to my small town upbringing. We didn't really have clubs where I grew up. And really, I'd never been a club type of guy.

I looked over at Jacob, who was currently being grinded upon by this pretty brunette and her red haired friend. He waved at me to come over to him, but I politely shook my head no. He then pointed to the red haired girl and mouthed, "You get her."

"No, thanks." I mouthed back before turning back to the bar and nursing the drink I ordered. It was some kind of alcohol…I still wasn't sure. I didn't plan on getting drunk, but I was thirsty and they didn't necessarily sell Pepsi at this place.

Emmett sidled up by me, his arm hooked around his wife - my sister - who looked at me with a small smile in her eyes. She was dressed to kill. I think red dress sums it up nicely. Every guy in the room wanted her and every girl wanted to be her. Either that or beat her up. The glances were mixed.

"Why don't you dance, Jasper?" Rosalie asked, kindly looking at me with her violet colored eyes.

"Yeah dude, you can't see all the tail checking you out?" Emmett offered, but then was shut up by a glare from Rose. Protecting me. Ah, it never changed.

"I'm not really…" I started, but then realized that it was true. I guess I wasn't exactly the most discreet of people. Not the most mundane. I was one of the Orlando Magic's starting shooting guards.

"Jazz, just cut loose, man!" Emmett prodded.

"But not too loose." Rose warned, "That's how you catch something."

I shuddered.

"Yeah." I replied, standing up. My eyes glanced over the crowd. Jake was now making out with the brunette from before, and the red head was looking my way, her gaze seductive and predatory.

_Ugh…_

Our eyes accidentally locked and then she was moving over to me. Rose gave me a warning look, while Emmett just grinned, both of his dimples sticking out prominently in his cheeks. They then left me with the girl that seemed to have one thing on her mind. And now that thing was on my mind, but only because it was on her mind and I wanted to avoid that.

"Hey." She purred, reaching out to stroke my arm. I tensed by reaction, feeling the liquid muscle move underneath my skin. "Casper, right?"

Oh, hell.

"It's _Jasper_, actually."

Yeah, this was doomed from the start. Not that I actually wanted this to work anyway. She just…I don't know. There was something weird about her from the beginning of this…weird encounter.

"Right, right." She said, now raking her ridiculously fake nails down my arm, "I totally knew that."

Her voice was light, bubbly, and she looked at me like I was something she desperately wanted. It made me feel increasingly uncomfortable, but I tried to smile at her without encouraging her. Which I failed at, for all she did was grin at me like she was the Cheshire cat, and make appropriate clawing motions at my bicep.

"Victoria." She introduced, holding her hand out strangely, limply, with the palm down, as if she thought I was some kind of knight that should be kissing it. Instead, I shook her hand, like I would do with any new acquaintances, and gave her a lazy smile. She looked more than mildly disappointed.

The look didn't last for long, for she quickly gave me a seductive look as she motioned to the balconied edges of the club, where various people were dancing. "Do you want to dance up there?"

I blinked several times before turning to look for Emmett and Rose, who had long since vanished from sight. I didn't know how to say no to this strangely forward woman without being callous and mean.

I decided to throw caution to the wind - it's not like I actually planned on taking this woman home - and went up to the areas she specified. She grasped my hand, and I felt my body tense. Despite the constant attention I got by women, I felt awkward with her hand in mine. Probably because it didn't feel right. It didn't feel like the newness of a relationship. It just felt like some girl trying to score with me so she'll have a story to tell to her girlfriends in the morning. Possibly steal some things from my apartment while she was at it…

I didn't realize I was so skeptical of her nature, but she did fit the profile after all. Flirty, scantily-clad, touching me with such confidence…

There were several couples already up at the balconies, and I saw Garrett happily talking with his girl, Kate. She had been with him since before he was on a famous NBA team, through all of his trials and everything he had been through. They had been high school sweethearts, and that was something I admired, for them to have been together for that long.

"Jazzy!" Kate called playfully over to me. I smiled at her as Victoria began pulling me in a completely different direction. The music was quieter up here, but still, there were people grinding and gyrating and just making a general spectacle of themselves.

Again, cue awkwardness.

I overpowered Victoria and ended up leading us to the place where Garrett and Kate sat, on some kind of cushy sofa with lush pillows and expensive décor seated on the coffee table in front of them. I gave them a pleading look, that probably screamed _help me_! Garrett only laughed, and Kate shoved his shoulder playfully.

"Nice catch, Jazz." She pointed to the girl on my arm with amusement. Victoria smirked in a catlike manner at Kate as she practically rubbed my arm against her large chest.

Ugh…some women…

Garrett grinned at me, "See? Clubbing does help."

"_No_…" I ground out as Victoria whispered something in my ear, but I couldn't hear over the stench of alcohol on her breath. It made my nose crinkle in disgust. I turned to look at her and now it fully registered just how drunk she was.

She might not have been wasted, but she definitely had a lot to drink, by the way her eyes were lazy and her mouth just parted ever so slightly. Or maybe she was tryin to seduce me - I could never tell with these things…

She pulled me away from Kate and Garrett in a whirl, and I felt dizzy all of a sudden. Maybe I drank a bit too much. Not good, considering my surroundings. She led us to an area where a people were dancing and pulled me into the fray. I almost barfed right there at the smell of all the alcohol around me. She started to grind her ass against my lap and I just stood there awkwardly.

_I have to get out of here! _I thought to myself as she flipped her crimson hair back, almost blinding me with it.

She moved her hips to the music, and though it wasn't an unpleasant feeling - hey, I am a guy; I have hormones - I knew I had to get out of there before something happened that I would regret. I was old fashioned. I didn't like hooking up with people who I barely knew. One night stands never appealed to me.

I looked around, my mind running in circles as I looked at the throng of people around me. I saw Emmett and Rose, as well as Jake and the brunette girl, but I knew they wouldn't help me. They _wanted _me to get some from this…encounter. And I couldn't find anyone to break from their partner to take care of mine… Ugh. Not good, not good.

I don't know what happened next. If it was too hot, or if it was the alcohol, but there was a horrible retching sound, and then a _splattering _sound in front of me.

Victoria had thrown up.

On me.

"Oh…oh, no…" I said, looking down at my pants and shoes, which were now covered in sick. I covered my mouth with my hand and tried to back away as Victoria wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. I felt my stomach try to betray me as she turned around, her eyes pleading and her mouth smeared with lip gloss and…oh, I don't even want to know what else…

I gagged and tore out of the massive amount of dancing people, who still hadn't noticed that one of their own had just puked their guts out. I wanted to desperately go outside and get some fresh air, but I found myself headed to the bathroom, with the thought, _What good is fresh air when you have drunk girl vomit all over you? _

I made my way into the bathroom and, with a queasy stomach, tried to wash whatever I could off of myself. Whatever fun we have had at _Twilight _before had been completely erased by that little incident. I'm sure the guys would have a great laugh about this tomorrow. I looked at myself in the mirror and the horrified look I had plastered on my features very nearly made me laugh.

Leaning over the sink, I ducked my head, not wanting to come back to reality.

So I stayed there, the scent of vomit burning my nostrils, and contemplated the overall worth of this endeavor.

* * *

"Dude, I can't believe you!"

I looked at Emmett as he jogged back from doing the passing drill with the other members of the second string. It was a simple passing drill that really only involved three people, so we had time to talk in between things.

"What can't you believe?" I said, as I watched Garrett go with Jacob and another member of the team, jogging down the court with perfect synchronicity.

"That girl was so into you last night. And you didn't even - "

"_Dude_!" I copied Emmett's favorite phrase and he looked at me with contempt, "She vomited. _Everywhere_!"

"So?"

"_So_!" I said, exasperated. "Oh, and she called me _Casper _when we first met."

"Like the friendly ghost?"

"I guess!" I shouted, huffing at him and feeling like a complete loser.

"Dude, it'll be okay - shit, it's your turn. Hurry up before Van Gundy gives you more suicides."

I started, the ball in my hands suddenly feeling very heavy, and then passed it to Dwight, who in return, passed it to Vince, and we repeated this process, weaving a "figure-8" as we passed.

I wasn't too into the drill, to tell you the truth, but even then, I'm sure that what I saw next would distract anyone from what they were doing, no matter how intense.

The doors to the practice gym opened and in walked a girl with long, wavy brown hair, and a guy with a mass of bronze hair, but my attention was solely on the girl. I could tell she was pretty, just from afar like this. They made their way closer and I got a better look. She had pale, pale skin that looked almost translucent, and a pair of pretty brown eyes. She was slim, and had a notebook in her hands. She came closer, almost to the sidelines, with that guy by her side.

I think it was at this point that the ball slipped from my hands.

It was an unusual occurrence. I was usually an exceptional ball handler. But the orange sphere flew from my hands, completely missing Dwight's large ones, open and awaiting the dunk to finish the drill.

The ball flew in the direction of the pretty girl.

Said ball conked said pretty girl her on the head.

Her back was to me, so she didn't see it. I don't think. And I felt mortified as she fell to the ground with a slight thump and a groan.

"Bella!" The man shouted, grasping for her as she fell, but coming up short.

I felt eyes on me, boring, burning through me, and I almost died of embarrassment.

"Jasper, what the hell!" Coach Van Gundy shouted from the sidelines as he looked awkwardly at the two. "Two laps! Now!"

Laugher resounded around me, chiding me and not the poor girl who I had probably just given a concussion.

Shit.

* * *

_**End Chapter Two.**_

_And there's chapter two! At one point, I thought I'd never get it done. Lol. Well, here it is, and I hope everyone enjoyed it. I had fun writing in Jazzy's POV, but next chapter we'll switch back to Bella. I hope this chapter made you chuckle. Jazz has always been one of my favorite POV's to capture, and I really enjoyed writing this. _

_Now, let's see… I mentioned Dwight Howard in this chapter. He's simply amazing. And Vince Carter. Lovely! And of course Stan Van Gundy. They're all actual members of the Orlando Magic at this point in time, and I do not own them either. Lol. If you want to know what they look like or anything, you can probably go to the Magic official website or ESPN or Yahoo!Sports. Or Google them. Whatever you like. Lol._

_Anyway, thanks so much for the kind reviews! I would love to hear your feedback on this chapter! _


	3. KO

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own Twilight!_

_Thanks so much for your reviews! They mean so much to me and I'm so glad to have a lot of support for this story. I really love writing this story and I'm happy that so many people enjoy this! So, here's the third chapter and I hope y'all like this one as much as the previous two!_

* * *

**Love and Basketball  
****Chapter Three: K.O.**

* * *

**Bella.**

I don't know what happened.

I remembered…walking to the Orlando Magic's practice gym, and Edward was ranting about some cute guy we had just passed. He said the guy gave him the "go ahead" eyes, but I had no idea what that meant, so I had just laughed and grinned along with him. That's what friends do, of course.

We were talking to the Magic's coach, Stan Van Gundy, when it happened.

I didn't hear anything, only felt the sharp pain of something hitting my head and I was on the ground.

I don't know how long I was out, but I came to with several faces around me, fanning me and looking concerned.

"Bella!" Edward exclaimed, his green eyes worried and sincere.

"I'm so sorry…I can't believe…" A voice with a thick Southern accent reached my ears. He sounded out of breath, as if he had just gotten done running.

"Damn, Jazz!" I heard another voice say, this one as unfamiliar as the first.

I opened my eyes wearily and felt a pair of hands grasp my wrists, pulling me up.

"Do you think she has a concussion?"

"Nice way to pick up chicks, Jazz. Give 'em a brain injury."

"Dude, he made one _vomit _last night."

"You lyin'!"

"Nope, not at all."

"Will you two shut up?" The Southern accent said once again. I assumed this was the 'Jazz' they were talking about.

Jazz…Jazz…that sounded familiar. My eyes fluttered open and closed and focused on the scene around me. The shapes were blurry, but they were dressed in a mass of blue - blue practice uniforms I soon figured out.

The whole Orlando Magic basketball team had seen me get knocked out.

Lovely.

As soon as the world stopped spinning, I realized that there was a pair of light blue eyes looking in my direction. Concern was one of the emotions that was the most prominent in those baby blue eyes. There was also embarrassment as well as confusion. I blinked several more times. My head was pounding with the force of the hit and I reached up and clenched my forehead with shaky fingers.

"Let's get her somewhere to sit down." The man with the oceanic gaze said, taking my arm and leading me over to the bench.

I couldn't think straight. I think that stray basketball scrambled my brain. Is this why most jocks were stupid? They got hit in the head on a daily basis, didn't they? I didn't dare bring up that question, though. I wanted to keep the sympathy that the players suddenly had, not cause them to assault me with more basketballs.

I sat down while the blue eyed basketball player grabbed a plastic cup and filled it to the brim with Gatorade.

He handed it to me, kind consideration in his eyes, "Here."

Blinking several times, I took the cup from his hands. Our fingers brushed and a felt my face color. It seemed like I could make things out better, and now I could focus on his features - honey blonde hair, kind eyes…

It clicked.

"Jasper Hale."

He blinked, obviously taken aback by my statement, being as those were the first words that left my mouth after I had been so brutally taken out. "Yeah…are you a fan?" His accent was so thick and rich that it made me want to spread it over pancakes.

"No." I answered honestly. I hadn't even known who this guy was before a few days ago.

"Oh." He looked taken aback, and maybe a bit embarrassed. "Uh…then why are you here?"

"I'm here to interview you." I said, "I'm with _Elle _magazine."

He cocked his head to the side, and the look in his eyes reminded me of a Golden Retriever. A painfully cute Golden Retriever. "Oh."

I scoffed, "If that's _all _you can say, then my interview is going to be shit."

He shook his head before running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, "I'm sorry…I was just taken by surprise. I didn't expect you here so soon. Let alone you being the one that I hit in the head with a ball."

"Right." I replied, looking at him with skeptical eyes, "Well, at least I'll have something interesting to start with my introduction paragraph. I can see it forming in my head."

"I'm surprised you can see _anything _after that."

I scoffed at that. Taking a swig from the paper cup, I tried to meet his eyes. They were just so _blue_, it was like they drew me in and held me there, like no one else ever had. I felt my heard skip a beat as I trailed my eyes down his well-defined arms.

Yeah, I could definitely see.

Looking away, as to not be caught staring, I stared down at the ensemble I had chosen to wear to this little…I don't know how to put it. Get together? But that didn't necessarily cover all the bases. Oh well, I tried. I gave up searching for the correct term in my head and realized how thankful I was that I hadn't worn a the short skirt Edward had insisted on.

"_Show some leg, and you'll have those meat heads on their toes around you." The bronze haired man smirked._

"_Right, because I totally want to look desperate and make them uncomfortable." I retorted, tossing the skirt in the far recesses of the closet at the cushy hotel we were staying at._

"_I saw how you were drooling at the photo of Mr. Hale." Edward grinned toothily, "It may help."_

_I scoffed, "He doesn't seem like that."_

"_If you say so."_

I shook my head, but doing so allowed the throbbing pain to become more prominent. At least it got my mind off of the atrocious mini-skirt that Edward had practically shoved at me. I settled on a pair of jeans - not too loose, not too tight - and a blue blouse for this first meeting. I figured how better to get on their side than by wearing their most widely displayed team color?

Colors have nothing to do with getting smacked in the head, however.

A hand was being waved in front of my face. I started, and then looked up to see the very pair of cerulean depths that captivated me so.

"Oh, good." Jasper said, grinning easily at me. "Thought you might've slipped into a coma."

I laughed, it was a strange sounding gurgle that came from my throat. Ugh, he must think I'm just some idiot from the city. "Right. Thanks for checking. I don't know what I'd do." There was more sarcasm to my tone than I intended, and I cringed, "Sorry. Reflex."

Jasper laughed in response, as if he were genuinely amused. "No problem, sunshine."

I felt a chill go down my spine as he drawled out the 'I' in sunshine.

He took the now empty cup from my hands and turned to me, "Refill?"

I nodded mutely, not knowing - and not being able - to say anything else. Frankly, the unique being that was Jasper Hale had taken me completely off guard. And I wasn't quite sure why.

He brought the cup back over to me with a smile on his face and I couldn't help but smile back as a blush graced my cheeks. Ah, my traitorous cheeks have done me in time after time. This guy must notice that I am completely flustered around him. Hopefully he'll just think I'm having issues since he scrambled my brain…

But he didn't linger around my face, instead he focused on the folder of crumpled papers in my hand. They didn't get the best treatment when I fell. I'm pretty sure I crushed them when I toppled over. "Eh, I hope you didn't have too much work done."

Inhaling and then pushing the breath out in an exasperated exhale, I looked from the papers to his face, which was marred with a strange look - concern. Why was he so worried? It can't be about the folders, could it?

"No, this is just my…prep folder, I guess." I explained, drinking from the paper cup yet again, "The owner of the magazine gave these papers to me so I'd know more about you when I met you."

He looked like he understood, and then looked out to the basketball players that had now assembled around the coach. He was shouting something, and I found his voice to be particularly grating to my ears. Not that he could help it, I supposed. But I guess it was effective to whatever he wanted them to do, because they immediately split into groups of five. Two of the tallest players came to the center of the court and the coach threw the ball in the air. The one with '12' on the back of his practice jersey tipped the ball to one of his teammates - I assumed since they were wearing the same blue practice jersey, while the five others wore white.

I wasn't even going to try to follow what was happening after that.

"So you didn't know anything about basketball when you were assigned this?" He asked, making me whip my head around to face him. His eyes were curious, amused.

I gave a sheepish laugh, "Not at all."

He gave me a lazy smile, one that I immediately found endearing, and said, "Well, that round orange thing is called a _basketball_."

I laugh, humoring his sarcasm, "Really? What's the orange circle with the board behind it?"

"That's called a _hoop_." He winked at me, and I felt my heart skip several beats, it seemed.

I felt my shoulders shake in a laugh, "Why, thank you. And those white things on their feet?"

"Nikes."

I let out a real laugh then, because the look on his face was adorable. His brow was quirked, his mouth cocked to the side in an adorable grin. The way he drawled his words was especially endearing, and I gave him a smile. "Thanks for the lesson."

"No problem…" He trailed off, his face growing confused, his brow furrowing in an attractive show of uncertainty, "I'm sorry. I never got your name, Miss…"

"Just Bella. Bella Swan."

"Alright, Bella," I loved how the twang sounded, wrapped around my name like that. "It's nice to meet you."

"Pleasure's mine." I replied. I bet the gigantic grin on my face looked ridiculous. He probably thought I was on something or desperate.

Maybe both.

"Hale! Quit flirting with the journalist and get into the scrimmage!"

He darted up, smiling at me apologetically, and I tried to ignore the feeling I got from the coach's words.

_Flirting? _Really, that was strange. I was never the type to have people flirt with me. Edward once said I say that just because I am used to putting myself down, but that's not the case. I've always been the "friend" type girl. Well, if people ever flirted with me, I never noticed and just acted oblivious. I don't know the difference between flirting and…whatever else people do.

"I guess I'll be seeing you around!" Jasper said, waving a hand at me before trotting off to join the scrimmaging players.

I watched as he ran to his coach. The shorter man pointed to one of the players on the blue team - since that was the color Jasper was wearing - and called out his name. He ran to the coach and switched in for Jasper to go play, I supposed.

I watched them play, not knowing what was going on, but there was a certain _draw_ to watching now. I actually knew one of the players, and it was intriguing to watch him do something that he was one of the best at.

I couldn't really take my eyes off of him. He ran like he was made of athleticism. His liquid grace was translated onto the court and the way he ran through the throng of players as if they weren't even there was something that I admired. I could see how his lithe muscles moved as he ran. Large calves, built over time. His arms were something equally enviable. Toned and taut, but still thin.

He got the ball from one of the taller players down by the basket. There was a hand in his face, but he released the ball in a fluid, perfect motion. I watched as the orange ball flew from his hands and settled through the net of the hoop. I was in awe as my eyes registered what happened. Everything was so fluid, natural. And this was only practice. I'd actually like to see what would happen in a game.

What was _happening _with me?

I tried to shake my head, but doing so caused the throbbing to intensify. I sighed as I leaned back in my chair and just watched the game.

"Here, sweetie."

I shot up, looking in the direction the voice came from. "Hm?"

"Ice pack. For your noggin." Edward held the aforementioned item in his hands. It was dripping slightly, and his hand was somewhat red from where the cold hit on his hand.

"Oh," I voiced, not sure what else to say. "Thanks, Edward."

"No problem." He said, "It's slightly melted because…well, I decided to wait and let you and your hottie have a moment."

_My…my __**hottie**__? _I felt myself flush crimson.

I found my voice after several minutes of stuttering like a fool. "Moment?"

"Yeah, he was flirting." Edward said, smirking suggestively. "And, say what you might about 'not knowing how to flirt', but you were, too, Miss Swan."

I felt my eyebrows crease together.

"And you were quite good at it, _Bella_." He said, waggling his eyebrows as he imitated the way that Jasper had said my name, a twang on his lips. "If I do say so myself."

Huffing, I smacked the ice pack to my head. Maybe a bit too hard because I winced as it made contact with the tender spot on my head. I could practically feel a lump forming as I sat there, listening to Edward and his inane comments.

"And, just by looking at him, you seem to be right. He's not like most jocks." Edward continued, his emerald green eyes peering over the court to focus on the team. "He actually seems…decent. Not like, well, Tiger Woods or anything."

I stifled a snicker at that comment. "Definitely not Tiger Woods."

He continued, "I approve."

"You act like we're going to date." I said, giving him a skeptical look. The attraction I felt for him stemmed from his looks, most likely. And the fact that he was being genuinely nice to me and not acting like a jerk or anything. But still, that didn't mean anything at all. He could just be nice because that's how he is. I read all of his interviews that Esme had packed in my folder and all of them were cordial, laced with a kindness and sincerity - as well as a humorous tone - that I had rarely encountered in the short time that I worked for her.

"You never know." Edward replied. The damn smirk had yet to leave his face.

"Yes, but you might think that. He was probably just being nice. I have to interview after all. He wouldn't want to start off on the wrong foot. Would you?" I tried to get some rationale behind the whole situation.

"Sure, whatever you say." Edward said as he sat down beside me, hanging his right arm over the back of my chair. I felt his fingers brush my shoulder and I sank down lower in the seat to get more comfortable. "Hey, he's pretty cute."

I almost choked on the air around me as I followed Edward's gaze to one of the players. He was tall, attractive, with wavy, unruly blonde hair and even wilder eyes. They were intense and I watched him guard Jasper with that same intensity. "I suppose so."

"But then again, you only have eyes for _Jazz-per_." Edward taunted, his fingers starting to tickle the skin of my upper arm.

I giggled and pushed him slightly, "Jerk."

"You know you love me."

"Are you quoting _Gossip Girl _again?"

"No."

"_Liar_." I grinned toothily at him, and watched as he looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "About both of it. Nothing is going to happen. He's famous. He probably already has a girlfriend, after all. Besides, I've only just met him."

I felt Edward's breath come out in an exasperated sigh, "Whatever you say, Bells."

Knowing that that particular mode of conversation was over, my eyes found Jasper yet again. He had just lobbed the ball to the player marked '12' and caused him to dunk. I might not know much about basketball, but I do know what an alley-oop was. I felt an involuntary smile come across my features as Jasper trotted back down the court, and for a moment, his eyes connected with mine.

Basketball suddenly didn't seem as boring anymore.

* * *

_**End Chapter Three.**_

_And there's chapter three! I just thought I'd insert some JasperBella action to spice things up a bit. Haha. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! I know I enjoyed writing it. I know it seems like I say that a lot, but only because I mean it. I love basketball, and writing about both Twilight and basketball? Well, that's something I absolutely love, haha. Anyway, I really hope that y'all would review! It would mean a lot to me because I always love to hear everyone's opinions on my fics and everything._

_Thanks for reading! _


	4. She's Only a Girl, Supposedly

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own Twilight!_

_I have to thank every one who reviewed the last chapter! I got so many responses! It makes me happy as an author to read what everyone thinks of this little fic of mine, which is quite different from the others. This is my…hm, how to put it, "relaxation" fic. Lol. It's incredibly fun to write and something that I love. And everyone's kind words helps that so much more!_

_Without further wait, here's chapter four! _

* * *

**Love and Basketball  
****Chapter Four: She's Only a Girl, Supposedly**

* * *

**Jasper.**

If I were to say that I wasn't distracted the whole practice by the very presence of Miss Bella Swan, I'd be lying.

Lying through my teeth, to put a colloquialism onto it.

Every time I'd run down the court, I found myself looking at her through the corner of my eyes, trying to gauge a reaction from those pretty brown eyes of hers. She was smiling at something the guy she was with kept saying. He looked awfully chummy with her, with his arm around the back of her chair, constantly whispering things into her ear.

_Maybe that was her boyfriend. _I found myself thinking solemnly to myself as I sprinted down the court, dribbling the ball I had just stolen from Jacob, and dunking it with a flourish.

Okay, I might have been showing off just a tad, but seriously, isn't that what guys do anyway?

Though she looked confused - from what I saw of her, I had to keep my mind on my job after all, unless I wanted to give her even more of a brain injury than I already had - I thought she enjoyed watching us practice, but maybe I was just stepping out on a limb there. Or hoping too much. I was prone to do that.

I inhaled deeply as I jogged back to the locker room after Coach Van Gundy dismissed us. The runner's high was coursing through my veins. I felt lithe, limber, every nerve ending in my body, though tired, was thriving. I loved to run, it was one of my favorite things to do. Maybe that's why I got along so well with the good old sport I've invested my life in. But, no, even if I hated running, I'd love basketball. Everything about it - the strategy, the fluidity, the athleticism, the _pureness _of the sport that I'd enjoyed as a kid.

I turned and gave Bella a grin as I trotted back to the locker room. The air that whirred around me cooled the sweat on my body, cooling my body down in the process. She gave me a shy smile back as Edward whispered something in her ear and she turned the color of a Houston Rockets uniform.

I felt a smile curve my lips as I entered the locker room on the heels of Emmett, who immediately turned and gave me a wolfish grin.

"So, that was the strangest way to pick up a girl I've ever seen."

I only stared at the curly haired man with a look that could be described as blank.

"I wasn't _picking her up_."

"Nope," Jacob passed me, taking a towel off the rack and wiping the back of his neck, "you were _knocking her down_."

There were several chuckles of laughter that resounded from the locker room - from the deep booming echoes of Emmett and Dwight to the quiet snickers of Garrett, Vince, and JJ. I just sighed as I removed my practice jersey and tossed it into the space designated as my locker.

"I resent your remarks." I told them, and cringed at the outright _hick _sound to my voice.

They laughed at this, and Dwight gave me his huge smile and patted my back with his more than huge hand, "It's alright, Jazzy. Even though I do believe Matt over there slipped on your drool from when you first saw her."

Matt flipped him the bird, and I sighed.

"It's not that big of a deal." I insisted, rubbing the back of my sweat-coated hair and groaning.

"Oh, yes," Emmett spoke up, grinning so hard that his dimples looked like they were caves in the side of his face, "I believe it is a _humongous _deal when Jazzy has a brain fart _that _bad."

Garrett high-fived Emmett and I just stared, not comprehending what was going on. _Brain fart? _Well, there's a first time for everything, I suppose.

"It was almost like he'd forgotten how to pass a basketball!" Jacob howled, his white teeth gleaming at me. I glared at him like he had said something particularly nasty. I hated when I didn't do the best I could. No, I wasn't a perfectionist, I just…was _determined_. Yeah, that sounds about right.

"Jazz, you know we just messin' with you." Emmett said, as if that would make my mortification any less severe.

"Sure, sure," I adopted Jacob's usual phrase and sighed, sitting down on the bench that was positioned in front of the locker that I called my own. I leaned back into the recesses of the locker, and the leg of my jeans graced my shoulder. They had been folded up and hung in the top part of the cubby hole and were lingering in a downward direction. I wish I could hide my face in them.

"I got dibs on shower first!" Emmett shouted, his enthusiastic voice booming as he rushed toward the showers.

"Man, there's a whole line of shower stalls." Dwight said as he grinned and ran after him anyway, his actions contradicting his words.

I maneuvered myself to a bundled over position, my elbows resting on my knees and my head hanging in the space provided. I heard the guys file out into the showers, a few at a time. The practice gym didn't have the accommodations that regular gym, located in the heart of Orlando, had, so we had to take turns.

I thought about a lot of things while I heard the running water and laughter coming from the showers.

Mostly, my thoughts revolved around a certain brunette that I had the pleasure to meet.

Soon, the showers had cleared out, leaving me alone, unmoving. I sighed and looked around when I heard my name called, "Yes, Em?"

"Dude, everyone's showered already." The curly haired man smiled down at me, "You need to get yours. I can smell you from here."

"Well, duh, you're in my face," I told him, rising and crossing my arms. Emmett threw his towel at me - the one that was wrapped around his waist - and I screamed and ducked. "_Not cool_!" I shouted, face red with embarrassment as I grabbed my own towel and soap from my things.

Emmett grinned at me as he walked over to his things and started to get dressed. He looked like he was about to berate me some more, so I just headed straight to the showers.

After I stripped and put my clothes on the bench adjacent to the row of shower stalls, I walked forward and turned on the water. The hot spray was a welcoming gesture, and I felt my suddenly tense muscles relax beneath the pressure of it. Sighing, I washed myself thoroughly. I felt no need to hurry. They didn't close up the gym for a while. Reporters lingered and interviewed us after practice and whatnot. So I took my time underneath the shower spray, just thinking about everything that has gone down in just a matter of hours.

_Bella._

Her name hits me out of no where. How could one girl have me so…enamored just by a first meeting? It was almost ridiculous. It has only happened to me one time before…

Before I could get onto that train of painful thoughts and memories, I shook my head, sending water flying everywhere, and leaving me dizzy from the steaming water that pelted me. I reached out and turned off the water, moving to grab my towel to wrap around my waist.

As soon as I had my lower half covered, I heard voices.

Voices of people who were not my teammates…

I crept out of the showering room and was met face-to-face with a pair of chocolate brown eyes, the same that I had been so enamored with before.

"B-_Bella_?" I croaked out, subconsciously tightening my hold on the terry cloth towel that was now protecting my modesty.

Her face was as red as a tomato as she looked at me. Her bronze haired friend looked just as shocked as I did, but I had a feeling that he wasn't her boyfriend, since he looked at me with just much subdued wonder as Bella did.

"Your friend said…that the locker room was empty." Bella stuttered, looking so embarrassed that I wondered if she had ever seen a guy shirtless before. I didn't know which was cuter, actually.

"Friend?" I asked, looking at her with incredulity, but in the back of my mind, I knew who she was talking about.

"The big guy. Muscles. Dark, curly hair." Her friend said, pointing to his own mass of bronze locks.

I slapped my head with the hand that wasn't holding up the towel. "Damn Emmett…"

"Emmett?" The guy friend said, his brows quirking in interest as he pondered my best friend's name.

_Definitely _not Bella's boyfriend.

Bella's sharp elbow struck out, hitting the bronze haired youth in his side. He winced, grasping his ribs and looking at her with his intense green eyes. "Ouch, what the hell!"

"Don't you remember from the file?" Bella told him. As she did so, however, I noticed how her eyes kept moving from the guy's face to my abs and back.

Hm, so maybe the attraction wasn't one-sided and shot to hell after all.

"What?"

"Emmett McCarty's married." Bella jabbed her shaky thumb in my direction, "To _his _sister."

I smiled nervously when the guy gave me a slight glare, as if I were the one who had made Emmett and Rosalie fall in love.

"Typical." He said, though neither I nor Bella knew what he was talking about.

I blinked and cleared my throat. The little conversation had distracted them from noticing my state of undress. Bella looked at me, meeting my eyes with a look that reminded me purely of Bambi, it was so innocent and endearing, as well as captivating, despite the utter horror and shock of her embarrassment playing on her face.

"Oh," She croaked out, moving her eyes from my half-nude form back to the other guy whose name I have yet to discover, "Come on, Edward. Let's go talk to some of his teammates…maybe they'll contribute."

"Yeah, maybe." The Edward guy said with a crooked grin in my direction.

Suddenly, there was a stealthy movement of his hand, and a flash. My shocked expression just gazed at him with disbelief, shock, and bafflement. For a few seconds, I struggled to find words to voice what the bronze haired guy had just done, but I finally managed to stumble out, "Did you just take a picture of me?"

"Edward!" Bella scolded, after she got over the shock as well, I supposed.

"Why, I guess I did." Edward looked over to Bella, his green eyes playful and coy as he scanned her flustered appearance, "Oops. Clumsy me."

Before I could ask him what taking a rather scandalous picture of me had to do with being clumsy - besides, the look in his eyes said he took the picture on _purpose_, of course - he put his slender hand on the small of Bella's back and led her to the door of the locker room.

As he left, I could faintly hear Bella's protests, but then Edward's voice rang loud and clear, playful and lilting, "What? Don't give me that! You _know _you wanted a personal memento of _that _dish."

There was a loud screeching sound that came from Bella's mouth, and then I laughed when I realized I was slightly mortified as well.

_Oh well, let her have her kicks. _I thought, as arrogant as that sounded.

I went over to the locker that was designated as mine and started to get dressed in the pair of shorts and t-shirt bearing the Magic emblem that I had worn over here. Sighing as I pulled the baggy clothes over my body, I looked to the door. Faintly, I could hear the chatter of the other players.

I scoffed to myself, stuffing my dirty things in my royal blue gym bag and walking out the door.

Only to be met with Emmett's grinning, dimpled face.

_Again._

"Did ya have a steamy shower encounter?" He asked, his face alight with some kind of perverted amusement.

I felt my cheeks heat up slightly in remembrance of the gazes that Bella had inadvertently directed toward my person. "No, Em. But I applaud you trying."

"She saw you naked, didn't she?"

"Half."

"Top half or bottom half?"

"_Top_!"

Emmett grinned like the Cheshire cat, and I questioned my sister's sanity for marrying him. "Ah, great. Now she'll be thinking about those abs all night _long_!"

"Are you really complementing my abs, Em?"

There was a pause, and then…

"Maybe."

I slapped my forehead for what seemed like the thousandth time that day. "Oh, and not to mention the fact that her little photographer friend got a picture of me."

"Shirtless?"

"Yes, with my _marvelous _abs exposed." I grinned cheekily at him.

"Don't get cocky now, Jazz."

"You mentioned it first."

Emmett grinned at our light-hearted banter and wrapped a bulking arm around my shoulders. The very feel of it was something that reminded me that, while all jokes and friendly grins off court, he was a beast in the paint. He was one of our teams leading rebounders. Being the backup center for _Dwight Howard _was a big seat to fill, and Emmett always did an excellent job.

"Ready for the game tomorrow?"

"Nice subject change, big guy."

"Eh, I try." Emmet said, grinning yet again. I swear there was rarely a moment - other when in the heat of a losing game - that he was not happy. "Just like _you _need to try not to get mauled by your little fan club when you step out of here."

"Fan club?"

"Don't play dumb." The curly haired man stuck his pink tongue out at me and I sighed.

I knew what he was talking about all too well.

Since my draft into the NBA, I have had the occasional letter of admiration from the housewife of a rabid NBA fan. Or from a teen girl who loves the sport. Even a guy or two. To say the least, that was all nice and good - in _mild _doses.

Then, I think of all the girls who have actually formed a group, taking my name and twisting it into some horrible chant of affection. It's enough to drive one mad. I don't have to deal with them too much. They're a rather small group. But I guess that'll change once the article is published. I guess it could be worse. Of all the players in the NBA, I can only think of three that have it worse with the whole fangirling situation: Steve Nash, Lebron James, and Sasha Vujacic. Funny how they're on completely different levels of skill on the court and yet stalking women put them as equals in the same category.

To put it shortly, I have a bunch of not-so-sane people following me around sometimes.

I sighed and looked up at Emmett. "Thanks for the reminder."

"That's what I do!"

"That's something I know all too well." I told him with a roll of my eyes.

As we walked out of the vicinity of all the reporters and whatnot, I lock my gaze on Bella, who is busy asking Coach Van Gundy some questions. I quirk a brow, and then realize that it's probably for something on my article. Her chocolate brown eyes briefly glance my way, before returning to focus on my coach's tired face, scribbling down some notes on her paper, while Edward lingered behind her, hand poised on his camera as if it were a valuable weapon.

I guess since he took that picture of me, it could be considered as dangerous as a black mamba.

I laughed at the sudden, unintentional use of Kobe Bryant's nickname and continued walking.

I strode to my car after Emmett gave me a pat on the back, smiling and chuckling as he unlocked his large, pimped out Jeep with the huge tires and the mud flaps and the fact that it guzzles gas more than anything I'd ever seen. I'm sure the economy is _thrilled_.

I sighed and waved goodbye to Emmett. He cranked his car - it sounded something like two large lions if they had an argument on Jerry Springer - and wheeled off.

And I was left to my own devices.

I unlocked my own car and turned on the radio. It was already set on the sports station, and I heard the announcer say something vaguely like, _"Don't forget to tune in to our live broadcast of your Orlando Magic's game against the formidable Boston Celtics tomorrow! It's sure to be a great game, since both teams are fighting to move up in the playoff rankings! Dwight Howard vs. Kevin Garnett, a match-up that has always been interesting! And, something I'm sure we're all excited to get to see again this season, the battle of the point guards! Our own Jasper Hale going against Boston's Rajon Rondo. Be sure to tune in for that one! Now, on to other basketball news…"_

The sound of the broadcaster's voice drifted off into my ears. I didn't know why, but I was suddenly off in my own world. Before I knew it, I had pulled up into my driveway. I pressed the button that opened the garage, and the door was lifted so I could drive my car into it. The whole trip was a blur. Like I was on autopilot the entire time.

Thankfully, I made it without problems. I opened the door that led from the garage to the first story of my house. It was where I slept - I still wasn't sure why I had such a large house, but it was nice to know that I had one. Almost like a physical note of my success. Sounds conceited, yet again, but I love knowing that I paid this off in full and I would have money for everything I needed. It was something my parents had wanted for me. To be successful and to make them proud, and already, I know I've done at least that much.

It was dark in the house. Practice had run later than usual and it was nighttime already. I turned on the light in the kitchen, then made my way over to the spacious living room that I had been sleeping in as of late. The living room took up most of the third floor, with snug, shaggy, crème colored carpet and various light colored pieces throughout the room.

You never would've known that it was one of the nicest rooms in the house because of the random bowls and pillows and blankets spattered throughout the place. Leftover pizza boxes and takeout Chinese food were the norm among the random cereal bowls and whatnot.

I sighed and kicked away a random paper cup out of the way as I made my way to my bedroom, where I quickly changed into a pair of my old basketball shorts, forgoing a shirt, and made my way back to the living room.

Plopping myself on the couch, I leaned back and gathered the comforter from my bed in the other room around me, snuggling into it as I felt the sheets that were wrapped on the couch bunch underneath me at my movement.

I don't know why that this is the only room in this large house that I'd ever felt comfortable in.

The bedroom was nice, of course, but there was something about the den that made me relax more.

I sank into the couch, not even bothering to fold it out into a bed, and turned on the television. Large, flat screened, and high definition, this television was one of my other indulgences besides the house itself. I flipped it to SportsCenter and watched as most the stories were about basketball and what teams were major threats and which teams were just awful. It was amusing, of course, but for some reason, I felt my eyes grow heavier and heavier as my mind distracted itself with the image of eyes the color of milk chocolate and hair like dark mahogany.

That night, I admit without embarrassment, was the first night I dreamt of Bella Swan.

* * *

_**End Chapter Four.**_

_Well, there ya go! That took longer than I thought it would. I loved writing this chapter and I just hope that everyone reacts to it like they did the last one. I was thrilled to get so many reviews for the last chapter! It made me think that this fic is really picking up in popularity! And, being something that I find so enjoyable to write, it makes it that much more fun for me to update! And the NBA playoffs start this week! I'm so excited! I can't wait!_

_Thanks so much for reading! Y'all have no idea how much this means! _


	5. Of Orlando and Miami

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own Twilight._

_Again, thanks for everyone who has reviewed so far. I love each and every one of y'all. Each review is like a mini-Christmas present for a writer, and I really am glad that everyone likes and is enjoying this little fic of mine. So…here's chapter five, without any further wait!_

* * *

**Love and Basketball  
****Chapter Five: Of Orlando and Miami**

* * *

**Bella.**

I could just _kill _Edward Cullen.

As much as I absolutely adored the bronze haired photographer, sometimes he used his talent for devious purposes. And, I mean, _someone _has to take action, right?

Right?

Yeah, right.

I walked alongside Edward as we strolled through the large, sprawling town of Orlando. We ditched the car and now were just enjoying the sights as the light left from the sky and turned the place around us dark and full of life. It wasn't a scary city. Nothing like New York at night, where you could get mugged. Even though you could get mugged in pretty much every city, but I digress.

People were coming out of various restaurants and gift shops, some sporting the very jersey that I had seen on the photograph of my first interview subject. Others were dressed very nicely and talked animatedly with other people.

I felt a smile cross my features, and then I noticed the camera jingling ominously around my companion's neck.

I had been following Edward this entire time, thinking that he knew where he was going. Various times he mentioned something about Spring Break back when he was in college and…well, it involved a few frat guys and too many beers.

I doubted that Edward still remembered his way around this place. After what he had said, I highly doubt he remembered anything besides the "surfer with the hot abs." I'm quoting him there, obviously.

I think Edward had a talent for getting any guy - and I mean _any _guy - to fall for him. If they were gay, straight, bi, _anything _with a pulse could probably be seduced by one look of his emerald green eyes and a crooked smile. I could see heads turn as I walked - for him, not me. Male, female, it didn't matter. I'm sure he could get even Donald Trump to go to the other side with just a swing of his thin hips!

_Not that Edward would want that. _I shuddered at the thought and felt the slight tingling of bile in my throat. _Definitely not._

I looked over to Edward, whose confident stride had not lessened in the least amount. I admired him for that quality, if not many others. In fact, in a small, minute part of my body, I admired him for the fact that he had the guts to go all paparazzi on Jasper in the locker room.

But then, I digress.

Despite the fact that he looked _damn _fine without a shirt on, that wouldn't be good for Jasper. It was rather invading, and I wondered if he was mad at us for letting something like that happen. But he looked like he was having a good time, if not a little shocked.

Sighing yet again, we made our way down the streets of Orlando. It had gotten kind of chilly since the sun went down, most likely because we were near the water. Vaguely, I could see the lights of the pier by the ocean just a bit across from us. I had the urge to go, but I didn't. I knew Edward would make a big production about his Jimmy Choos or something like that.

Or, he'd say something about wanting to go when he could get a good view of the "scenery."

Of course, the _scenery _being _hot, half-naked men_.

I couldn't disagree with him there. I'd seen quite a few well-built guys since we had arrived here in Orlando and made the trip to the practice gym to meet Jasper. I wished I would have gotten more time with him - I needed to set up an appointment for our first interview session, after all. But there was another part in me that wanted to have his attention for another, shallower reason.

Shaking my head, I hated myself for a second. It wasn't just because the fact that he was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. But, I had read some of his past interviews - only to know what he was like, I tried to convince myself - and he seemed like a great guy. Like someone who genuinely loved the game of basketball and was grateful for every blessing dropped in his lap.

Then, there was the matter that he could be lying to the interviewers to make him look good, but Jasper didn't carry that air of arrogance around him. Yes, he had a certain irresistible _confidence _to him, but it didn't translate into that cockiness that most basketball players had.

It was something else I found just so damn _attractive _about him.

We turned the corner, and I saw the shining lights of where Edward was trying to take me.

'24 Hour Photo' beamed back at me.

"Oh…no." I muttered, slapping my forehead.

Edward heard my slight commotion and looked down at me, "Oh no, what?"

"You're getting those photos developed _now_?"

A wicked smirk appeared on Edward's face, and he gave a slight chuckle, "Of course! You know how I am. Besides, I used the last on this roll of film at the practice."

I paused, looking at him like he had gone insane, "You used _all your film _at the practice!"

This made Edward laugh louder, "No, no, love. I didn't do that." He fingered the fabric that hung the large, expensive piece of equipment across his neck, "This was a roll of film left over from my last photo shoot, and I just got the whim to use the rest of it during the practice - _and _during a few select moments while you were sleeping on the flight over."

I blushed. No telling _what _he took pictures of if I was asleep. But I didn't mind. Edward cared about me and he wouldn't do anything to hurt me intentionally. I gave him a sardonic smirk, "Ya, so would that explain why you were flashing like mad after I got knocked out?"

"Sweetie, that was only after I knew you were alright!" Edward joked, elbowing me as we continued our trip to the photo development place. It seemed like a death sentence. Because, I knew, as soon as that shirtless photo of Jasper was developed, that I couldn't stare at it without drooling like some crazed fangirl.

Luckily, I knew how to restrain myself, unlike a few select others.

Before we actually entered the gym, we had to get past flocks and flocks of NBA fans. Some of them wielding the moniker of Halemates. Several of them wore the number ten on their jerseys, which was Jasper's number. There were many more with twelve, which was the tallest guy…Dwight Howard, I think. And then various others. Those two jersey numbers were the ones I saw most prominent.

And the women that wore number ten frightened me.

I had to show him a note from Esme to let him let me in. He was actually about to make me call her on the phone until one of the Jasper-maniacs almost attacked me.

He ended up letting me in, believing my story. Because I knew for a fact that I didn't look like any of the crazed women - and a few men - that were these so-called Halemates.

I shuddered just thinking about it.

In my time of thinking about that certain occurrence, we had made it to the photo shop, and I sighed, wanting nothing more than to curl up in my bed at the hotel we were staying at. It was almost ten, surprisingly. We had been walking for a while, stopping at various stores and whatnot, since the practice had been let out at around seven. It seemed rather late for me, but the coach of the Magic had said something about wanting to give them "more discipline."

Edward pushed the door open and there was the tinkling of a bell that sounded out around us.

"Hello!" A friendly voice announced, and the fact that someone could be so cheerful at ten at night shouldn't have surprised us.

The lanky, enthusiastic man that helmed the counter at the photo place was very cute with dark, russet skin and large, expressive, brown eyes. His hair was kempt short but was slightly shaggy, hanging and curling around his chin and neck. He was extremely tall, at least 6'9", and had wiry muscle adorning his frame.

We approached him, and he grinned broadly, "Welcome, what can I do for you today?"

I looked over to Edward, who immediately looked interested, his emerald eyes had become enraptured with this man. I hadn't seen him look like this in a _while_. It was a refreshing sight. I only hoped that the boy might share his interests.

I stayed back, letting Edward walk forward and set his camera on the counter in front of the man. He held out his pale hand and gave a crooked smile - his trademark, "Edward Cullen."

The boy looked taken aback for a minute, his eyes widening even more, which I found almost impossible. For a minute, I thought it was because of his undeniably good looks, but then he proved me wrong, "_The _Edward Cullen? _Here_?"

I blinked. Edward was relatively famous in New York and the other inner-circles, but to have someone like this guy notice him - someone who was wearing torn jeans that looked to be from a flea market and a baggy t-shirt that hung off him like it wasn't his own - was frankly amazing.

A large, boyish grin crossed the youth's face, and he stuck his large hand into Edward's palm, "I knew I should've come to work tonight for a reason! I'm Seth Clearwater, nice to meet ya, Mr. Cullen!"

"Just Edward, please." The bronze haired photographer just said, with a smile. "Nice to meet you, Seth."

If my eyes weren't deceiving me, Seth had _no reaction _to the infamous Cullen Crooked Smile, patented by the even more infamous Edward Anthony Cullen.

But, it looked like Seth didn't see the attraction - blatant and obvious - in Edward's face. He looked to be that kind of naïve, good-hearted individual that was so uncommon in today's world. And that was something that made me instantly like him. He wasn't quick to succumb to the Cullen charm, but that wasn't because he didn't like him. It looked like Seth liked everyone until proven otherwise, and the adoration that was expressed on his face proved that he knew who Edward was, and he liked him a lot.

"Your photography is amazing," Seth started to crow, his grin never shrinking, "I have looked at so many magazines, and it's something I can spot right away. There's just a certain quality to your photos that just grabs me…"

As Seth continued, I noticed something strange on Edward's face. Unlike the pure, unadulterated attraction displayed before, now he looked interested in what Seth had to say. Sure, I knew Edward well enough that the fact that Seth could handle himself and wasn't just another pretty face was a major _plus _for Edward, but the fact that he was talking like he knew his stuff was another thing that the green eyed man found attractive.

Oh, Seth. I didn't even know him and he was already digging himself deeper into the Cullen pit.

Their conversation was cut somewhat short, however, by a voice calling to him, "Seth!"

His eyes widened, "Oh, hey, Leah, what's up?"

"Don't you _what's up_ me, Seth." The girl said, her eyes angry. She was tall for a girl, looking like she reached at least six feet even, and had stylishly kempt, boyishly short black hair that suited her brilliantly attractive features well. Her eyes were dark and angry at the moment, and her skin was the same smooth, rich color that Seth's was. "You missed practice and _I _had to deal with Coach!"

This time, I saw a sheepish blush cross Seth's face, "Sorry, Lee, but look! Edward Cullen is here!"

"Who the fuck is Edward Cullen?" Leah demanded, looking angry, "I'm glad we have customers, but this is a _secondary _job, Seth! You're a basketball player first, and a shop runner second! Don't make your team regret drafting you this year!"

I froze.

_Basketball player_?

"You play basketball, Seth?" Edward asked him, genuinely interested, and trying not to show his ruffled feathers at the fact that this Leah girl had just yelled at the most adorable boy he'd ever seen.

Seth blushed even redder, "Uh, yeah." He pointed to something on the wall, and we both froze, looking at each other before staring at the enlarged, framed picture like it was something foreign.

It was Seth, standing beside a rather old man with glasses and white-gray hair that was noticeably shorter than the tanned youth beside him. In front of him, Seth held out a maroon jersey made of shiny material, with his name on the back of it, as well as the number '16'.

"I was just drafted this past year." Seth said, his voice small, "To the Miami Heat."

"Seth," Leah said, walking forward, her eyes now kind and loving. And I realized that she was wearing a rather short, pleated maroon skirt that exposed her legs, which were tanned and toned and I immediately felt jealous of them. They looked like they stretched for miles. And I knew if it wasn't for the hoodie that she wore with the words _Miami Heat_ emblazoned on them, that I would see her toned arms as well. "Listen, I'm sorry that Orlando didn't pick you, too, but at least you got drafted! And maybe one day you'll get to play for them! That's why you need to go to practice and get better, so maybe they will want you one day!"

Seth smiled at that, and I noticed how similar he and Leah looked. It was obvious that they were siblings, and I smiled, noting how much they loved each other just by their glances.

And I felt sad.

I didn't know Seth, but I felt bad that he hadn't been picked by the team he wanted. It was something that tugged at my heart, something that felt just like the emotion that Leah was showing right now. It felt downright sisterly. And I hadn't even introduced myself yet!

"Yeah," I said, smiling, "I agree with her. You'll get better, and then one day, the Magic will see what they're missing!"

Leah looked at me, slightly shocked, before giving me a small smile with her full lips.

Seth smiled at me too, and then said, "I never got your name."

"Bella." I told him, smiling softly back, "Bella Swan."

"Leah Clearwater." The tall, statuesque girl said, giving a smile in my direction. "Nice to meet ya."

Edward never took his gaze from Seth, only handing him the roll of film he had removed from the camera. He looked at me and then said, "Ignore the pictures that are on there. Bella's a reporter doing an article on the Magic's Jasper Hale."

Seth looked at me in awe, "_Jasper_? For real! Oh, that's so _cool_!"

I nodded, and Leah sighed. Her brother's enthusiasm was enough to get everyone in the room excited, or cheer them up, at least.

Seth took the film in his hands reverently as Leah removed the hoodie, revealing a matching top that hugged her thin form. The word _Heat_ was embossed on the front. It looked like one of the uniforms that a dancer would wear. She threw the hoodie at Seth's face in a manner that reminded me of too many movies about brother-sister relationships, "I'm going to go change, Seth. You'll be alright?"

"Yeah, sis." Seth said, his voice muffled beneath the cotton.

Leah then walked into the back room, and I couldn't help but be envious of her lithe form. If only I was that graceful. I blushed, remembering the events that happened earlier in the day. As if knowing that was what I was thinking about, my head throbbed painfully, the Tylenol that Edward gave me just after we left the practice gym was starting to wear off, and the comfortable bed that he had in store of us at the Hilton hotel we were staying at seemed _very _appealing, no matter who had previously slept in it.

Edward looked slightly tired, and I knew it was getting late. Now, it was almost ten forty-five and I was feeling the effects of the plane and the near-concussion and my thoughts. I yawned and Edward looked at me, a smile in his eyes.

"I think it's time we left." Edward said, his eyes kind towards Seth, "Better get going. We gotta get to the game tomorrow."

"Game?" Seth looked confused, quirking his head to the side like he was a puppy. It was rather adorable, and it caused Edward to chuckle attractively.

"Magic and…Celtics?" I supplied, placing a finger to my chin in contemplation.

"Oh…" Seth said, looking vaguely disappointed, "Well, I hope one day, you two can make it to a Heat game!"

Edward gave him a smile - the patented Cullen one, except, surprisingly, without the edge of seduction that always came with it. The pureness of that smile almost took my breath away. "I think we could possibly do that."

Seth looked hopeful, and grinned, "That would be awesome!"

Edward smiled at him and then took one of the business cards for the 24 Hour Photo out of the small plastic container that held them. He took a pen out of his breast pocket and wrote down several numbers, and I held back a girlish giggle, "Here's my number."

Seth took the card in his hands with a look of awe on his face, "Oh…uh, thanks."

Then, Seth did the same, writing his number on the card that already had the business's number on it. The numbers were different, and I assumed that this particular number was his cell. "Here's mine."

Edward smirked at him, his eyes penetrating, "Why, thank you."

Seth nodded, as if words failed him. Which, knowing Edward and his dubious ways of controlling hormones, I knew they must have.

He then took the roll of film in his hands, holding it delicately, and then looked at us, "I'll call you when these are developed."

I smiled at him, and Edward nodded with that same, damning smirk.

"We'd better get going." Edward said, grasping my hand in that totally platonic way, lacing our fingers together. "Got a big day tomorrow."

Seth nodded, the grin on his face never fading. "Glad to meet you two!"

"Same here." I smiled and Edward gave him a devilish grin before we turned and opened the door, the same tinkling bell sound saying farewell to us.

Out in the fresh air, I addressed Edward, "Wow. Look at you, all flirty."

Edward looked at me, and the expression on his face still had the smile, but there was something else different in his eyes. As if talking to Seth had made him think about it differently. Certainly, the blatant attraction Edward felt for Seth was obvious, but it was when Seth started talking so animatedly about Edward's work, as well as the fact that he was so open and honest and _kind-hearted_… That was something that Edward definitely wasn't used to, and I believe the strangeness in his eyes was justified.

The infamous playboy looked like he had been shown reason, as strange and ludicrous as that sounded.

"Yeah. He was so…" Edward trailed off, his grin widening.

Amazing. He had really gotten to him.

I laughed, "Alrighty, Edward. Save your romantic fantasies for when we get back to the room."

It was very dark, but the various lights and the full moon were light enough to lead us back to where we parked the rental car, which seemed like an eternity away.

As I walked, the only thing I could think of was the fact that Edward, on his first try, had been able to get Seth to give him his number.

Without even really trying, Edward had managed to bag himself a basketball player.

I could only wonder what it would take for Jasper Hale to even cast a caring glance at me.

Because, frankly, I was no Edward Cullen.

* * *

_**End Chapter Five.**_

_And, there ya go! Chapter five! I was surprised where this chapter ended up going, but I rather liked it. I had to introduce some more characters, and I adore Leah and Seth, so there they are! And the pairing of Edward and Seth…I just think it's adorable. I've read so many fics with them, and I really wanted to try it for myself. Even though it's more of a secondary pairing than anything. Haha._

_So…there's the end of this latest chapter. I would love to hear your opinions about it! I enjoyed writing this and I can't wait to hear your reviews! _

_Thanks again for reading!_


	6. True Blue Bachelor

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own Twilight._

_Alrighty! I know everyone knows where I'm going with this, but it just needs to be said that I am so overjoyed that everyone reading this fic enjoys it! I really appreciate hearing all of your comments and everything…especially when I didn't think this little fic would get many reviews! Y'all proved me wrong! Thanks so much for sticking with me, and I hope y'all enjoy this latest chapter!_

* * *

**Love and Basketball  
****Chapter Six: True Blue Bachelor**

* * *

**Jasper.**

I should've taken the dream as a warning sign of what was to come.

The dark eyes and even darker hair, haunting my dreams in the form of Bella Swan, should have been a premonition, if you will. I guess that's what most of the psychology types called these kinds of things. Or maybe I was thinking about gypsies and fortune tellers. Eh, they were all the same to me. I guess that showed how _cultured _I was.

Mm, hm.

I rolled off of my couch early the next morning, landing promptly in a pile of old pizza boxes and KFC buckets. All were empty. I'm not the usual slob, I don't leave _food _laying around. I eat that. My mom and dad told me to never waste, which I have taken to heart and applied in my life right about now. But, despite their words, they wouldn't like the look of my house.

I groaned and looked up to the television that was attached to the wall, hovering above everything else. I took the remote and turned up the volume, needing the noise. I didn't bother to turn on any of the lights, for the sun shone through the large, glass doors that led out to the backyard, as well as the other windows, making the entire first floor bright and happy seeming.

Walking over into the kitchen, with the sounds of ESPN greeting my ears, I rummaged through the place. Too lazy to actually cook anything of value, I sighed and reached for the box of Frosted Flakes and poured them into a bowl. The thing was only half-full, and I emptied it. Great, I had to go grocery shopping now. That was always an event, of course, considering how well known I was throughout Orlando. One time this lady actually came to my cart while I was checking out, grabbed a package of sausage, and as she ran away she screamed, _"I've got Jasper Hale's sausages!"_

No lie. Some shit you just can't make up.

I walked to the refrigerator, praying that my milk wasn't out of date. I slung open the door and gazed into the contents of my fridge, which were quite pathetic. If the appliance was a person, it would be starving about now, it was that empty.

I grabbed the gallon of milk and shook it, its slight contents sloshing about. I looked at the date, gratefully seeing that it only had another day before it expired, and bit off the top with my teeth. As I was pouring the last of the milk into my dreadfully slim amount of Frosted Flakes, the doorbell rang.

I groaned and grasped a spoon out of the sink - surely, it was clean. It had been soaking there for ages. I made my way to the front door with the spoon in my mouth and the cereal sloshing all over my hands. The milk was in a larger quantity than the scarce flakes of cereal.

I wrapped my fingers around the handle and pulled, staring out into nothing. "Ding dong ditch…" I mumbled around the metal of the spoon yanking on it and crashing it into the bowl, shoveling the milk-laden cereal into my mouth. "Clever." I sarcastically mumbled through my mouthful of food.

"Down here, meat head." A small, white hand waved in my face.

Oh.

I looked down, though I automatically knew who it was from the tinkling, playful voice.

I took the spoon out of my mouth and gave her a grin, "Mornin', Alice."

"Geez, you think you would've showered after practice yesterday." She said, making her way into my house, almost like she owned the place. She had that kind of air about her, despite her height disadvantage - she didn't even scrape five feet. I towered over her. Her hair was always styled in a spiky manner, in cleverly crafted disarray, and she was petite, pale, and almost impish in her movements and mannerisms.

"I did." I defended myself, "I showered in the locker room."

"Exactly." Alice replied, wrinkling her nose, "Being in that shower requires another shower. Just saying. That's how _ungodly _awful it is."

"Like you would know."

"The dance team's showers aren't exactly the pinnacle of cleanliness, Jazzeroo." Alice said, jumping lithely up onto the counter, as if it required no effort at all.

Alice was one of the Orlando Magic's dancers, and it showed in her everyday movements. There was just an uncanny grace about whatever she did, that one would go and think that she must have been a nymph in a former life, if you believed in that sort of thing. Her blue-gray eyes studied me carefully, and only now did I notice the McDonald's bag cradled delicately in her lap.

"Oh…you're killin' me, Alice." I stared at the bag, imagining what kind of glorious, fattening, heart-attack-inducing item would be in there. "Bringing that contraband in my house?"

"You talk about it like it's cocaine." The black haired girl said, reaching in and pulling out - _oh good Lord _- a McGriddle, in all its glory.

"It might as well be, for an athlete." I told her, eyeing the breakfast item like it was a steak and I was an unfed German Sheppard.

She threw the item at me. I caught it, but then put it down like it was tainted. I knew I shouldn't, but oh I _wanted _to.

"Just eat it, ya pansy." Alice said, winking at me before throwing the whole bag to me. Again, I caught it and then looked inside. I felt the saliva in my mouth as I stared at the biscuits and hash browns that filled the paper bag.

"You're gonna get me fat." I told her, my voice in a sing-song, but I put the bag on the small island counter in the middle of the kitchen before hefting myself onto it, seating myself rather comfortably.

I happily ripped into the McGriddle first, chomping down and savoring the strangely amazing taste of the food with more calories than Alice went through in a day. I let my eyes roll in the back of my head in an overly dramatic gesture and groaned before looking towards the small girl, perched on the counter across from me.

"Simpleton." She scoffed, rolling her eyes and drinking from a cup that I had just realized she had. Orange juice, it looked like.

"You're the one drinking orange juice."

"Technically, I think it'd be called a mimosa right about now."

"Alice, it's nine in the morning!"

"I kid, Jasper. I kid." Alice shoved her cup in my direction. "Want to see for yourself?"

I reached over to where the cup was dangling and grabbed it. Smelling it, then lifting the cup to my lips, I realized that she was right. Nothing alcoholic in this drink. I didn't know if I should be relieved or disappointed. Because, though I didn't drink much, I felt like I needed one right about now.

I handed it back to her after taking one more sip - after all, she hadn't gotten me anything to drink - and then smiled at her, "Carry on, Miss Brandon."

"Nah, ah," She taunted, holding up her tiny hand. I saw the gleaming ring before she said, "Soon to be Mrs. Denali."

"Right, right." I said, as if I should have known that all along. It wasn't news to me. James Denali was on our Orlando Magic team, a third string reserve. Usually players dating dancers wasn't allowed, but somehow this was an exception. Now they were engaged to be married, and I couldn't be happier for them.

I guess it would look strange to anyone else, seeing the fiancée of my teammate in my own house, but not to the people who knew just how close we were.

Alice and I went way back - best friends since high school. We both grew up in the same small town, went to the same small school, and ended up moving to the same _large _city with jobs that intersected literally. We had tried dating in high school, but it was just really too awkward, because I had literally known her since we had been both in diapers. I had the pictures to prove it. Over the years, me and Alice grew closer and closer as friends, and now we were a constant support system to each other.

So, I guess that's how she ended up on my doorstep every day of a game, making me breakfast. After all, breakfast is the most important meal of the day, she always harped on me. This day was different - I guessed she was feeling lazy and brought me McDonald's. Not that I was complaining. It had been far too long since I had fast food.

"Tanya's taking me shopping for a dress later." Alice said, giving me a smile. Tanya was James's younger sister, also on the dance team. The two had hit it off almost from day one, due to their similar interests.

"Cool." I said through a large amount of biscuit I was now working on. The McGriddle was long gone now, and I almost regretted it.

She seemed to be rambling off now and again about random things. Like China patterns and whether to have chicken or fish, roses or lilies, and whatnot. It pretty much all went over my head, but then she dropped a bomb of sorts.

"I saw the girl yesterday - the reporter."

"Reporter?"

"The one you knocked out at practice."

I felt my cheeks heat up. "Eh, really now?"

Alice nodded, draining the rest of her orange juice before tossing it into the trashcan and hopping off of the counter, "And I saw you _flirting_ with her." A wicked grin crossed her small features.

_Great. _I thought, looking at Alice. I could see the wheels turning in her head as she stared at me, a mischievous glint to her blue-gray eyes. Nothing ever good happened when she looked at me like that.

"I can see why. She _is _gorgeous." Alice smiled, her teeth glinting in the light. She was like damn toothpaste ad, "Need help?"

My eyebrows narrowed, "No."

Alice giggled, the sound bubbly and light like champagne.

Ugh.

I didn't like that laugh. It meant some crazy shit was about to go down.

"She's interviewing me for an article in some girl magazine…_Elaine_?"

"_Elle_?" Alice looked like I had just given her a lifetime shopping card to every store in the mall. "Wow, Jazzypoo is having an article in _Elle_!"

"Hey, they're paying me." I winked at her.

"If it's not in clothes, I don't care." The pixie-haired girl said, turning her face to the side, upturning her nose in the air. She then looked at me slyly, "What's her name?"

"Bella Swan."

"Oh, you actually remember her name." Alice smiled, "That's a good sign."

"Of course I do."

"_Of course_, he says." Alice grinned as she made her way into the living room and I heard her disgusted groan. "Jasper, this place is _gross_!"

"Not your problem!"

"I'm in here. It's my problem." Her voice carried, and I craned my head around the corner to see her picking up the remote very casually and turning the channel. "You think you would get tired of hearing about sports all day."

"You think you would get tired of watching _Project Runway _all day." I shot back.

"Touché." Alice plopped her thin little body down on my makeshift bed, and groaned. I watched as she pried an empty Gatorade bottle out of the cushions and threw it to the ground. "Really, what is the point of having a _mansion _and not having it clean? If you wanted to live like trailer trash, then you should've _bought _one."

"Is this what you came to do today?" I asked, hopping down from the counter and taking the bag of biscuits with me. "Bitch?"

"It's a tough job, but someone's gotta do it."

"You seem to be a natural." I looked to see what she changed the channel to, and lo and behold, it was _The Real Housewives_ of whatever city. "Oh, perfect. This is just the thing to get me into game mode."

"Hey, this bitch threw a table last season. That's hardcore!" Alice pointed to the television with a small hand.

I looked at her strangely, my eyebrows knitting together. Something was amiss. I had known Alice long enough to know when something was bothering her, and I hadn't seen it until now - I had been blinded by the McDonald's - but there was something definitely bothering her. "Are you okay?"

Alice didn't make any movements to reassure me, only sighed and leaned her head back against he couch, staring at the high sloping ceiling. I waited. She'd tell me sooner or later. I just hoped it was sooner.

"Maria keeps asking about you."

I paused, the bag crumpling in my hands despite the fact it still had food in it. I felt my heart twist in a strange, injured manner. Hating myself for even caring, I tried to control my facial expression, which no doubt now contained a mixture of anger and shock, and lowered myself to sit on the arm of the couch. I stared numbly at the television, not knowing how to process this new bit of information.

It was silent for a while.

I didn't know what to say. I wanted to keep my dignity and not try to ask her what was going on, but I didn't. I just voiced, "You still keep in touch with her?"

The mixture of vulnerability and venom in my voice was palpable. I guess, no matter how I tried, I couldn't rid the hurt she caused from me. This was definitely not a way I wanted to start my day, learning about this.

"She calls every now and then." Alice admitted, and I could feel her careful gaze on me. I didn't know how to react to her eyes on me, so I just stared at the television, pretending to be interested. "It has really kicked up since last week, though. I didn't want to tell you because…well, you know."

I raised my hand, stopping her from feeling bad. That was the last thing I wanted. She had done the right thing by keeping it from me. I don't think I'd have been able to handle whatever she had to say if she told me any sooner than she had.

I didn't feel so bad, though. Not as bad as I would have before…before, well, yesterday.

I think it might have had something to do with Bella, as strange as it sounded.

I had felt such an attraction to her - even more strongly than I had with _Maria_ - that it gave me hope. After what Maria had done to me, I had lost so much. I had trusted her, I had loved her, and…what she had done was unforgivable.

But meeting Bella, it had been like a breath of fresh air. Her innocence and that endearing shyness had drawn me in, as well as her wit and beauty, and I had only met her yesterday! She was a far cry from the person Maria was, and that was something that I really liked about her - the fact that she was so different than every other girl I had met since becoming _Jasper Hale of the Orlando Magic_.

I had realized that my thoughts had drifted off to Bella, when the more pressing matter at hand was Maria, and why she was trying to get into contact with me.

"Has she told you why?" I said, and it was noticeable that the tone of my voice had changed from piercing venom to cool indifference. It was a feeling I treasured, for it was rare.

"Why else would she call?" Alice said, her voice betraying the emotions of dislike and somewhat interest, I supposed, in my change of tone. "She wants to get back together. Our conversations are never long, and I always tell her the same thing before I hang up - _'Like hell.'_"

I smiled at her, "I appreciate it."

She looked shocked, and then she sighed, "That girl really had an effect on you, didn't she?"

I rolled my eyes and rose from my seated position, not bothering to dignify her with an answer, which, for Alice, was as good as an admittance.

"Well," Alice said, rising from her seat on the couch, "I'll be sure to tell you if Maria calls again, since you've been _so accepting _this go around."

"Oh, thank you so much." I said sarcastically, watching as Alice tossed her empty orange juice into the trash can and moved to the door. I followed slowly, wondering what exactly she was going to do.

"I say, you take the bull by the horns." Alice turned, her eyes blazing strangely. I wondered what she was talking about.

"Are you talking about Maria?" I said in disgust, "Because we know that's not going to happen."

"I meant the _other _pretty brunette," Alice said, lightly punching my shoulder, "Bella? Hello?"

"Yes. I know." I told her, "And…what?"

"Exactly what I said before - take the _bull_ by the _horns_!"

"The bull being Bella?"

Alice sighed, slapping her forehead with her hand, "You can be so dense sometimes, Jazz. Just saying."

I laughed, and slightly shoved her petite back in the direction of the door, "Leave me. I need to prepare."

"For what, Mrs. Streisand?"

I laughed at that again, the playfulness of her original visit coming back, and I was grateful for it. The mention of Maria had darkened the mood, but then everything was light and happy again. It was something I was very happy for, because there's nothing that can mess you up when playing a basketball game airing on national television than being upset about something.

"Right. Prepare for Rondo." Alice smirked slightly. She remembered the first time we played the Celtics, and it wasn't pretty. It was one of the games I had dwelled on ever since it happened, and this game today was a sort of redemption. We needed to play well or, well, we were a bunch of chumps in the eyes of the media.

"We'll talk more later, you strange, _strange _man." She stepped to the door and opened it, giving me a wink, "Take care."

With that, she stepped out of the door and walked - or rather, _danced _- to her car.

As I watched her drive away, I couldn't help but think about the bomb she dropped on me. About Maria. I shook my head, that wouldn't help things at all. If I thought about it too much then things were just going to get worse, not better.

Besides, there were more pressing matters than my ex-girlfriend.

_Bella. _Her name came into my head on its own accord, echoing around and around. It was a pleasant distraction. But I didn't need that distraction come game time.

I moved to my room and started to change into something more appropriate. I planned on arriving at the gym a few hours early and warming up. It was something that many people did - Kobe, Lebron… - and I had started doing it as soon as I moved to the big leagues. Some people would usually join me and we'd have a shoot around together.

I tugged on a new shirt and started to pack my things in my gym bag, taking out my old clothes and replacing them with the things I needed for the game today.

All the while, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was on the cusp of something remarkable.

* * *

_**End Chapter Six.**_

_And there's the next chapter! I just thought I'd try to finish this up and get it posted as soon as I could. I really enjoyed writing this chapter and introducing Alice. Haha. I hope that everyone enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing this. _

_So, I would love to hear everyone's opinions. They're always welcome! And again, thanks so much for reading!_


	7. Controlled Chaos

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own Twilight!_

_Over a hundred reviews! I am so incredibly happy for this fic of mine. And grateful for all the reviewers that saw it fit to review with a bit of information about how much they like the fic. I appreciate all of it! Thanks so much! _

_So…here's chapter seven!_

* * *

**Love and Basketball  
****Chapter Seven: Controlled Chaos**

* * *

**Bella.**

The sun peered at me almost mockingly as I turned over, desperately trying to hide my face from the light.

_No, don't make me wake up yet…_

But I knew it was inevitable. Soon, I would have to wake up to face a new day, have to wake up and go to a basketball game to help out with the opening segment of my interview. Usually when I describe an even that transfers smoothly into the actual piece. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, the scent of coffee greeting me.

I rose and walked out of my room and into the place that adjoined both the living room and the kitchen.

"Good morning, sleepy head." Edward's chiming voice greeted me. He was standing in the kitchen, pouring a cup of dark, steaming liquid into one of the mugs from the cabinet.

I groaned and he laughed at me.

I rose from the bed, and made my way over to the kitchen. Through bleary eyes, I glanced at the clock, "Twelve o'clock _in the afternoon_? Are you serious!"

Edward shrugged, his hair looking even more out-of-control than usual, "I didn't invent the clock."

I rolled my eyes and sat on the stool at the bar. The room was very spacious, as expected in any hotel carrying the _Hilton _namesake. Esme really had gone all out for us when she gave me this job. Edward was leaning against the counter, sipping on his coffee and holding a content expression on his face. It must have had something to do with meeting Seth for the first time. I could tell that he really liked him, because as soon as we left the 24 Hour Photo last night, he couldn't shut up about how cute he was or how much he wanted to kiss him…

I had listened - for the most part - but I often found my thoughts drifting to a certain basketball player that I just couldn't get off my mind lately.

I knew it was stupid. I knew that to get involved with a professional athlete was a risqué thing, seeing how it turned out for so many others. The media was unforgiving to the guy, and sometimes the girl because she would take him back. But there was something about Jasper. Something intangible that I couldn't place my finger on, that made me think that he wasn't just another athlete. He was…_different_.

As I drifted and dreamed about the blue eyed basketball player, I noticed that Edward was waving his hand in front of my face. I looked at him strangely, shaking myself out of my reverie, and glaring at him, "Yes?"

"We're going to the basketball game tonight, right?"

I blinked at him, "Duh."

"Well, before that, do you think we could go to - "

"You want to go see Seth?" I said exasperatedly, running a hand through my tangled mop of hair.

Edward nodded, and a handsome smile made its way onto his face, "He called just about an hour before you got up. The pictures are done."

"I don't know if I should feel happy or terrified." I said, edgy about the various photos that Edward had taken. He was usually trigger happy with the camera, loving his job as he did, and from what he told me, he had taken enough pictures to incriminate me as the klutz of the universe - as well as the World's Goofiest Sleeper.

"Happy for _me_." Edward nudged my shoulder as he walked around to the couch that was situated in front of an expensive looking flat screen television.

"Right, right." I said, rolling my eyes in his general direction before unsteadily rising from the stool I had been sitting on.

"Get dressed. Or take a shower. Whichever." Edward said anxiously. "Your hair looks awful."

"Geez, you can be a real bitch sometimes."

"It's my job." He turned, winking over his shoulder at me.

Again, I rolled my eyes as I passed him, grabbing my shampoo and soap that I brought from home out of the bag I had yet to unpack. I made my way to the bathroom, purposefully shoving into his bare back as I did so, and he snorted at my attempt to make him fall over. I walked into the elegantly done bathroom and shut the door behind me.

I ran the shower water, not wanting to take the time to take a bath. It was obvious that Edward was ready to go. He took a bath after we got in last night, but I was too tired to wait for him. That boy had a time issue with bathing. It had taken him at least an hour and a half to get out, and by that time it was well past midnight, and I wasn't going to deal with that.

I jumped in the shower, feeling the sharp, hot spray patter against my bare body. It felt nice, and it woke me up fully in a matter of seconds.

I heard the loud blaring sound of the television outside the door. Edward must have turned it on. I groaned as I turned to wet my hair. This was going to be a long ass trip, in the literal and metaphorical interpretation of that phrase.

It didn't take me long to lather my hair with my signature strawberry shampoo, wash myself thoroughly with my soapy towel, and shave. I was out of the shower in a matter of thirty minutes, which might be considered long by some people, but for someone that had to put up with Edward and his high-maintenance ways, it was almost like I was in there ten minutes.

I opened the shower curtains to see Edward standing over the sink, shaving. I rolled my eyes and grabbed the towel from the rack above the toilet and ducked back into the shower, drying myself off before wrapping the fluffy white of the towel around my body.

"Bout time." Edward said, slapping some aftershave onto his face, looking at my reflection in the mirror as I made my way out of the shower carefully. Knowing my lack of coordination, I was certain to trip over something.

"Oh, shut up, Madonna." I told him in a teasing way.

Edward snickered at that as I made my way back to the bedroom where I got dressed. I thought I looked decent, in a black t-shirt and a pair of torn jeans, but as soon as I got out of the room, the bronze haired fashionista gave me a glare.

"The hell are you wearing, Courtney Love?" Edward said, his green eyes wide and unbelieving. "No. No. This will not do."

He shoved me back into my room and practically tore the offending shirt from my head. My wet hair stuck out in all directions. "Go dry your hair. I'm going to go find out what you should wear."

"I look fine - "

"_You look like a grunge-rock disaster._" He told me seriously, "Not appropriate for work, or for meeting Seth again, or for meeting Jasper again."

"How do you know that I wasn't going to change?" I said, starting to feel a bit cold, standing there in my bra with wet hair under the air conditioning vent was not a good way to start out the day.

"Because I know you." He was right about that point. "Now, go dry your hair."

I did as he was told, feeling a bit like a teenager all over again, except not even my parents were this bossy.

When I came back, my hair as sleek and nice as I could get it, despite the wavy texture to it, he was looking at me with a smile. "Good." He motioned to my bed, where he was pointing to a pair of jeans with no holes in them, and a deep blue v-neck shirt with short sleeves.

"Oh." I said, looking from his eager expression and back to the clothes.

"Hey." Edward reprimanded, "Blue is definitely your color. And we're going to a _Magic _game later. Their color is _blue_. So you can't go wrong!"

"You're wearing green, though." I told him.

"It brings out my eyes." Edward said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. And it was fairly obvious. He was wearing this well-fitted green t-shirt and a pair of loose blue jeans that complimented them perfectly, hanging slightly off his hips, accented with a silver belt. His eyes were showcased to their fullest effect, and his hair looked to have some red in it from the simple change of clothes.

"But…if I'm not mistaken, the Celtics' color is _green_."

"Psh, technicality."

"Well, don't blame me if you get jumped tonight." I said, moving over to strip myself of the torn jeans and squeezed into the cleaner pair Edward had laid out for me.

"Oh, sounds interesting." Edward said, an innuendo in his tone.

"Perv." I teased him, throwing my _Courtney Love-grunge jeans _toward him, which he dodged. They landed on the lamp, nearly knocking it from its perch on the vanity.

"Don't break things, Bella." Edward teased as he winked and left me to my own devices. I pulled the shirt over my head and adjusted it so it looked alright and then looked at myself in the mirror. My brown eyes appraised my figure and I sighed, knowing that I could never pull of the easy good looks that Edward could, but I tried, so that was something.

I walked out of the room, and found Edward looking at me with approving eyes, "You clean up good, Swan."

I groaned, "Not as good as some people." My mind quickly drifted to the beautiful Leah Clearwater, who I'd just met last night, and I felt a stab of pity at myself.

"Oh, shut up." Edward said, tucking a strand of my long brown hair behind my ear, "You're gorgeous."

I scoffed at that, but took the compliment anyway, blushing slightly. My traitorous cheeks always got in the way of my stubborn approach.

"Let's go then." I said, grabbing my shoulder bag and grinning at the emerald eyed man in front of me.

"Let's." He repeated, smiling.

* * *

We arrived quickly at the 24 Hour Photo, and Edward marched in like he owned the place. Seth was there, looking frazzled, but as soon as he saw Edward, he smiled at him and held up one singular finger before moving to the back room.

"Leah, give me Edward's prints!"

"Yeah, yeah," Leah said, and I could only picture her expression - beautiful, lively, and annoyed. She peeked her head out of the room and handed Seth the prints. He took them eagerly, and smiled at his sister, who rolled her eyes and ruffled his hair, despite the fact that he was almost a foot taller than her.

Seth turned to us, and held out the prints. Edward took them in his pale hands and gave a smile toward the smiling youth. "Thank you."

"Feel free to come back any time." Seth told him, flashing his impeccably white teeth.

"Oh, trust me," Edward said, smiling back. "I will."

This caused Seth to blush red beneath his russet skin, and I felt myself fighting a smile.

"I'll be looking forward to it." Seth smiled gently, and I swear I saw Edward flustered at the mere sight of this man - or _boy _would be more appropriate. His facial expressions were more at home on a boy's face, not a man's. And that was something that made me like him even more, was his innocence.

Edward recaptured his resolve and gave him a heart shattering grin, "Not as much as I am."

"Oh, geez," I heard Leah snort from in the back room.

"Shut it, Lee!" Seth said, and though it was intended to be an insult, he couldn't keep himself from laughing as he said it, and I grinned brightly at that.

Leah left the room and entered the bright space where we all stood. I saw that she was wearing a pair of maroon pants now, baggy and loose, and a dancer's uniform top. Looking at her like that, she just screamed _athlete_, even though some people still didn't consider dancing a sport.

I, personally, consider every physical activity I can't do a sport. Which is pretty much everything.

She looked at us and a comical smirk came over her face, "Blue and green?" Her eyes went from me to Edward and back again, before settling on Edward, "Are you trying to get jumped?"

"Green brings out my eyes."

Leah snorted at that, "Ain't nobody gonna care about _that_. Not at a ballgame. No matter how good you look. They're gonna see green, and then they're gonna see red because they're so mad because they think you're a Celtics fan. And then _you're _gonna see red because they've punched you in the face and you're bleeding."

I laughed out loud at that, not being able to control myself. I didn't even know this girl that well, and I already liked her.

"At least your friend had good sense to dress color appropriate." She nodded to me.

"Right." Edward rolled his eyes, "I helped with that. She originally wore a t-shirt and jeans that looked like a pit bull had gotten a hold of them."

"She's going to a _ballgame_." Leah replied incredulously.

"Exactly what I told him!" I said, agreeing with her.

Leah grinned wolfishly at me and said, "See?"

"Well, I figured if she ever wants to _date again_ then she should look nice."

"She already looks fine." Leah winked at me, obviously enjoying getting under Edward's skin, and I smiled broader.

"Just like your brother…" Edward mumbled under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." Edward smiled nervously and tugged at my arm, "Come on, Bella. Let's go. We should get to the arena before all of the fanatics start swarming the place."

"Try not to get jumped!" Leah called after us. I waved goodbye over my shoulder and Edward snuck a last glance at Seth, who was smiling gently after him. The doors clinked quietly closed behind us, and I sighed as we moved to our car.

I opened the passenger's side door and got in. Edward was very overprotective of this car, despite the fact that it was a rental. Despite his love for photography and flirting and fashion and dressing me up like the next Lady Gaga, he enjoyed cars more than anything else in the world. He stuck the key into the ignition and cranked the car, smiling as he heard the purr of the engine.

When we pulled out of the parking lot in front of the 24 Hour Photo, I grinned impishly at him. "Flirt."

"Without flirting, no one would get married." He stated simply, and I had to laugh at that, though it was true. "If you don't let the person know you're interested, then you might as well be invisible."

"Well, I think even a blind and deaf person would know what you were doing in there to little Seth." I teased, pushing his shoulder.

"Doesn't compare to the things I want to do to him." Edward smirked and I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. Despite all of the time we've spent together, sometimes Edward's comments caught me off guard.

We talked on and off after that as we made our way to Amway Arena, where the Orlando Magic had their games at. It was a very different experience than simply getting into a practice, which was strangely more hectic than I thought it was supposed to be. We made a few side trips when Edward saw a little store that looked promising. He would go in and usually come out with a bag of clothes, and more often than not, something for me.

He was one of the only people I could take getting me presents, or surprise gifts. Because, more often than not, I really liked what he picked out. I usually paid him back, but most of the time, he told me to not even worry about it. That I was his best friend and he wanted to do something nice for me. After that, I'd get teary eyed sometimes because he was always so sincere, and I felt glad to have him, despite all of his eccentricities, as my best friend as well.

Several hours and bags of clothing later, Edward pulled up to the arena, and parked the car close to the front of the parking spaces. It seemed there were already several cars parked around the place, they all looked to be either a Mercedes or something equally lavish and expensive and gas guzzling. There was actually a Hummer there. I knew for a fact that most of the players parked in a garage that led into the back of the gym, and that there were guards there, so that this couldn't be any of the player's cars, but it was equally strange to see them there, like it was nothing.

Edward got out of the car like a zombie, looking at the various other cars there with a gaze of pure childish wonder on his face. It looked like he wanted to touch one of the Ferraris there, but couldn't, because most likely the alarm would go off, and that wouldn't look good on his record, if he was perceived as a car stealer. I tugged him along and we made it to the gate at last.

I showed him the free pass that had been granted to me by Esme, which was only for journalists and sports reporters and things like that, and he remembered me - it was the same guard that let me in the previous night at the practice. He smiled, almost like he knew I had almost gotten a concussion, and let us through.

We walked through the sliding doors and into the Amway Arena.

It wasn't busy, not close to what it would be in about two hours when the game actually started. Several people lingered around, setting things up. In the heights of the arena, hanging down from the ceiling overhead, there were large, _huge _even, posters of the players of the team.

The three most prominent posters, arranged in the center of the first floor, were Dwight Howard, Vince Carter, and…

I smiled when I saw it.

_Jasper Hale._

The poster showed him as he jumped high in the air, ball ready to fly from his hands, a determined look on his features and his hair sweaty. I couldn't help but stare at the poster and smile like some moron. I felt Edward tug on my elbow and pull me in the direction of the escalators.

On the second floor, there were various people standing at the concession stands, waiting for the crowd to file in. There were also several places where you could go to buy Magic memorabilia - jerseys, posters, cards, and whatnot. There were flags and bumper stickers and stuffed animals and everything you could imagine. The mascot lingered around, talking to some girl with the head of his costume folded underneath his arm. I grinned at that, enjoying this new experience.

We moved out into the court area and I took in a sharp breath at what I saw.

The place was huge, as I'd expected, and it was also almost empty, giving it the impression that it was larger. But I'd be willing to bet that when all of the crowd got there, then it would be even larger.

I walked down the steps between the seats, knowing that there must be an easier way to do this, but not really caring. I was absorbing the whole thing and, despite the pangs my legs were feeling, I was in awe, having a great time just looking at the massiveness of the whole thing.

As I got closer to the bottom, where I'd be sitting, along with the other reporters and whatnot, I saw him.

He was lithe and slender, moving about like a fish through water, as natural as what he was doing looked. His hair got in his face, but he didn't seem to care as he dribbled, stopped short, and jumped, launching the ball in a perfect arch toward the hoop. It swished through the net, and he collected his own rebound, dribbling back toward the three point line, where he started the process all over again.

_Jasper. _His name was a whisper of a thought in my mind, and I felt my heart skip a beat at it.

I almost stumbled over the last couple of steps, and Edward caught my elbow, keeping me steady. I was shocked I'd made it this far without tripping, so it was to be expected. Almost as if he'd seen what I had done, Jasper's baby blue eyes looked over at me and he grinned.

I felt my cheeks flush when he raised his left hand and waved at me, as he continued dribbling with his right.

I lifted my own hand, that was shaky with a combination of excitement and nervousness and embarrassment, and smiled at him as Edward pulled me to my seat. We had rather good seats, us reporters and journalists. They were just a few seats behind and up from the seats that the players would sit on during the game.

Jasper continued shooting, and I felt a slight hint of disappointment. I'd hoped he would come talk to me, but then I realized that it was stupid to want such a thing. This was game day, not just a practice where he could screw up and nothing would happen. An actual _game _was at stake, so I didn't feel disappointed for long.

Instead, as I watched Jasper warm up for the game, I felt a wave of excitement as a smile crept on my face, and an eager feeling grew in the pit of my stomach.

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_**End Chapter Seven.**_

_And there's chapter seven! I enjoyed writing this, even though it is kind of a filler of sorts. But I have to develop characters in Bella's POV, just as I did in Jazz's POV in the last chapter. But, yeah. Next chapter is Jasper's POV of the ballgame, and everything that is going to happen. Haha. And then Bella, and so on and so forth. So, yeah. I really hope that everyone enjoyed this chapter._

_Side note: if anyone watches the NBA playoffs, the Magic (Jasper's team in this fic lol) have been eliminated by the Celtics, and the Suns have been elliminated by my Lakers and now the NBA Finals are Lakers/Celtics! Should be amazing! I know I'm excited for it! _

_Anyway, thanks for reading! _


	8. Blue Plus Green Equals Animosity

**_Disclaimer: _**_I don't own Twilight (or the NBA, for that matter, lol)._

_Thanks so much for your reviews! I really appreciate them! I am so glad people like this fic, so…well, I don't have much else to say except here's chapter eight! And I hope everyone likes this one as much as the others._

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**Love and Basketball  
****Chapter Eight: Blue Plus Green Equals Animosity**

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**Jasper.**

The ball left my hands and floated toward the hoop.

The satisfying _swish _of the net met my ears, and I jogged over to retrieve the made ball from its position, bouncing on the court. I then, just for the hell of it, flipped it upward with a flick of my wrist and sent it kissing off the backboard and through the hoop once more before dribbling back out to the three point line.

The arena was still pretty empty, but then again, it was rather early. Usually, most of the fans would start to file in sooner or later. It was just a matter of time. The place would be as desolate as if a bomb just went off and then out of no where, it would be like a flood of people seethed through every crack of the place.

I sighed and shot a running jumper at the goal. This one bounced off the rim, just slightly off the mark. I collected the rebound and stuffed it back in the orange circle.

I had been at the gym for several hours already, preparing myself for the game. This one was a huge one, against the Boston Celtics. I didn't see any shades of green around, so maybe…

Oh, wait. There was one, single, solitary shade of green amongst all of the blue and white.

I dribbled absentmindedly, looking toward that very strange green shirt. It was very funny that a Celtics fan would appear this early before the game. It was almost like he wanted to get jumped earlier than he usually would.

Green Shirt was talking rather animatedly to a pretty brunette wearing the appropriate colors - a blue shirt in support of the Magic - and at one point he had to keep her from falling down the steep incline of the steps that led to the seats. I had to hold back my laughter - a Magic fan and a Celtics fan? Hopefully they weren't a couple, because that would surely cause a few ruffled feathers, I snickered to myself.

As they got closer, I realized that I _knew _Green Shirt and Clumsy Magic Fan.

And I knew they weren't a couple at all.

Because, despite what little I knew of Green Shirt, I knew he was more crooked than my grandpaw's walking cane.

Well, well, Miss Bella and her friend Edward have come to the game. Not that I didn't think they would. I guessed they wanted to see me in action themselves, as well as get material to go off of for the interview. Or whatever.

I looked to Bella and felt a slight sense of excited anticipation - she was going to get to watch me in a game situation. Albeit, she probably wouldn't know what was going on, but just the fact that she was there was enough to get my blood pumping.

I turned around and started another running jump shot, this time the ball sank in fluidly through the net. I got the rebound and glanced up again, this time Bella and Edward were clearly in sight, and I saw her raise her hand and wave. I continued dribbling with one hand, raising the other to greet her.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her take her seat. Edward was particularly polite and let her down the aisle first.

The nervous energy coursed through my veins as I turned to shoot the ball yet again. The ball went through the net again, and I smiled. There we go, I was getting my rhythm going.

I looked at the large clock that hung from the center of the arena. Counting down to tip off, it read that I had about an hour before the game started. Huh, time flew fast when you were busy with shooting and everything. I looked up into the stands and, like I had said before, they were almost all full now. People were still filing in through the doors, wearing various shades of blue - blue shirts, blue jerseys, blue shoes… - and I felt a smile cross my features.

The arena was already coming alive, and I felt the electric tension spill around me. Looking up to the rafters, I saw the usuals from ESPN getting prepared to do their pre-game show and predictions. Usually they would have someone come interview one of the players before the game - and I figured since this game was one of our nationally televised ones, that they would be sending someone shortly.

I guessed I was lost a bit, because then a short woman with blonde hair came up and smiled gently at me. I grinned back, stopping what I was doing and walking with her to the sidelines. The camera zoomed in on us and I tried not to stare at it.

She asked me several questions - the usual: How are you going to beat the Celtics? How important is this game to your team? What do you plan on doing to help your team? - and I answered them as politely and accurately as I could.

The reporter smiled, thanked me for my time before I walked away, and then said, "Back to you."

I walked back out onto the court, and Emmett came up to me, his eyes flashing as well as his dimples, "Jazzy Pha! Coach wants to talk to us. You know the drill."

I did. Every time before the game started, before we ran out to millions of screaming people, Coach Van Gundy drags us into the locker room and give us a pep talk. Just like every other coach in the league did. So I just nodded at Emmett and jogged alongside him as we made our way back to the locker room.

Everyone was already in there, save for Dwight, who sneakily - as sneaky as a big guy could be - maneuvered himself into the locker room just after Emmett and I sat down and Coach started talking.

"I don't really have to explain how important this game is." Coach started in a quiet voice, which was rather odd for him, "Last time we played this team, we got blown out. It's time to prove ourselves!"

There were several grunts in agreement as Van Gundy continued.

"We know the offense. We know the defense." He recounted, "We also know what they're capable of. Dwight, remember to keep the ball high. If you keep it low, then that gives them the opportunity to strip it from you. Rashard, we need you to make some threes. Jasper, I need you to guard Rondo like this is finals game seven…"

He went over several other aspects we needed to do to ensure this victory against this team, and we all nodded, taking mental notes. He mentioned several things from the past game against the Celtics, telling us what we needed to watch out for - Ray Allen's threes, KG's physicality, Paul Pierce's tenacity, Rondo's quickness. I was ready, bound and coiled and ready to spring.

Coach looked at his watch, and said, "Well, it's time for you guys to run out. You've got a good twenty or so minutes before tip off."

Wow. Was it really so soon? Coach must have talked more than I realized.

"Alright, bring it in." He said, extending his hand. We all walked to the center of the room, putting our hands together and saying a chant to help get everyone pumped up. And I was more than pumped up already.

After that, we all lined up - Vince first, then Dwight, then Rashard, and then me, followed by everyone else. We walked out to tunnel, ready to run out. I jumped up and down in place several times, trying to control the frantic energy.

"Let's go!" One of my teammates cheered, though I was too enveloped in the hype to wonder who.

And with that, the Orlando Magic took the floor.

The place was even louder than it was when I had first entered the locker room. People reached down from above us on the tunnel, wanting to at least touch hands with one of us. They shouted, cheered. I heard several people shout my name, along with my teammates. We separated into two lines and started our lay-up drills.

Just before it got to my turn, I snuck a glance over at Bella, who was watching us with rapt fascination. She was seated a few rows behind where our bench would be, alongside Edward. She gave a slight smile at me and I winked quickly in her direction, trying to appear subtle.

Then I turned back to my reality. The tough orange ball was passed into my hands and I ran with it, laying it gently against the glass before taking my spot in the passing line. I felt my heart start to pound with barely suppressed excitement. I couldn't wait to take on the Celtics.

And, this time, beat them.

The shoot around lasted for the remaining amount of time between the pre-game show and the actual game. Soon, it was time for all the starters to be called out, preceding the singing of the National Anthem. The loudspeaker blared the names of our opponents, and they ran out on the court before chanting a few things, and racing back to the bench.

Then, it was time to announce the starters.

One after the other, the starting five of the Magic were called out. I was second to last, the blaring speaker shouting, "Jasper Hale!"

I ran out, giving high fives to my teammates and doing other things to get us pumped up. I could sense the adrenaline throughout the air, simmering around us like steam. I felt a smile curve my face as I bumped fists with Emmett, who I stood by after I had gotten called out.

"Ready to kick some ass?" Emmett asked me, a grin on his face.

"Always." I smirked at him.

Then, we all gathered at the bench. Coach gathered the starters around, scribbled some things on a dry-erase board that had the image of the basketball court printed on it. X's and O's, ineligible to anyone else except a basketball player who knew exactly what was going on.

Coach told us what to run, and we all nodded, understanding.

We all huddled together, determined, and said some encouraging things, shouting at the end.

The lights brightened up - they had been dimmed for the intros - and then the place was transformed into a battlefield.

We needed this game. Desperately.

I watched as Dwight moved to the center of the court, getting ready to jump for the ball. The whole place around us was alive with electricity and the chants of our fans, as well as the jeers against the Celtics.

The referee - one of three that called the game - threw the ball in the air. The two players in the center jumped for it, hands outreaching, and it was knocked my way. I caught the ball and felt excitement sizzle through me. It was always a good way to start things out when your team won the tip.

I started my way down the court, taking my time as everyone got set up. Dwight immediately posted up, reaching one mammoth hand out to call for the ball. Several other of my teammates were running about, trying to get to their positions.

I saw Dwight first, though, and he was in good position, so I made the decision to force it down to him. In one crisp pass, the ball was in his hands and he turned, keeping the ball high like Coach said, and barreled into the lane.

He was hard to stop when he got so close to the rim, and the first shot of the game was a dunk, executed perfectly, along with a foul after, giving him one free throw. He moved to the free throw line, and I could tell that the Celtics had not liked that play at all. One foul in just a few seconds in the first quarter. I know I wouldn't be happy if I was their coach.

They were lucky that Dwight wasn't took good of a free throw shooter, but he made the one he earned, putting us up three to zero at the very beginning.

Rondo got the ball and moved down court as the rest of us were setting up the defense. I waited for the speedy point guard at the half court line, crouched into a defensive position. I was determined to not let this guy get the best of me again.

He was quick, but I kept up with him as he dribbled the ball down the court. They were good at getting fast points because of Rondo. He had a way of penetrating through the defense and getting to the rim, and I had to make sure I was between him and the goal at all times. He was crafty, too, though, and that usually made it hard. But I welcomed the challenge.

My opponent zipped around, trying to find an opening that I wouldn't give him. I was alert, focused, ready and able to stop him from driving to the basket.

He passed the ball to his post player, no doubt planning on getting a goal the way I had to start the game. Hopefully our big guys wouldn't foul as his did.

They didn't. The rest of our players clogged up the paint, and with the shot clock winding down, the player with the ball was forced to take a difficult jumper just a few inches past the free throw line. The ball bounced around before sinking through the net.

Dwight got the ball and passed inbounds to me. I gathered it in my hands and looked at the clock as he ran past me to take his position in the paint.

A chill of excitement ran down my spine. The game had only just started, but I had a feeling that it was going to be a very close, very well-played game.

Pushing that feeling aside, I steeled my resolve and dribbled down the court.

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The ball was in my hands again after two quarters, I passed it down on the post and ran along the outside of the three point line, hands outstretched, calling for the ball. Rondo was fast, but I could outmaneuver him if I set my mind to it.

The clock was winding down. It was the last possession of the second quarter, only a few seconds from half time and a blissful, much deserved rest. I had hardly been benched - the only time being to get a breather at the end of the first quarter. I didn't mind. I was in shape, and I could handle it.

I called for the ball. There were mere seconds left in the second quarter. We were tied, and if I got this shot off just as the buzzer rang, then it could give us the momentum we needed to start off the second half.

The ball found its way back into my hands. My feet were already set behind the three point line. I felt the strength in my legs as I jumped, shooting the ball in a confident arc toward the orange hoop.

_Swish!_

A big, goofy grin curled my lips as I watched the ball dip into the net just as the clock ran out.

I let out a triumphant scream, fists clenched, as my teammates surrounded me, clapping my on the shoulder and congratulating me. Emmett actually came and practically jumped on me.

If they were this excited when I nailed a three at the end of one half, then what would it have been like if it had been at the end of the game?

It scared me and excited me at the same time.

Looking up to the scoreboard, I saw that the score was 57-54. My three had given us the edge we needed before the half ran out, and I couldn't wait to get back out there as we all trailed back into the locker room, where I was sure that, no matter how good we played in that first half, that Coach would probably chew us out for all the other little things we'd done wrong - turnovers, fouls, offensive rebounds, stuff we could've done better and whatnot.

I wasn't too worried about what my coach was going to say. I was too hopped up on adrenaline to care. I could feel it pulsing through my veins. My face felt hot, and I could feel myself soaked in sweat.

Emmett handed me a towel that he had slung over his shoulder, "Here bud, you look like you just jumped in a pool."

I took the towel from his hands and immediately put it over my face, "Thanks. Though I could say the same for you."

I heard Emmett's booming laugh as I wiped the perspiration from my face and then removed the towel, looking at him. His cheeks were flushed red, and his mop of curly brown hair was matted by sweat. It wouldn't have been so funny if he had played as much as I had, but he had only gone in when Dwight went out, being our backup center and all.

"Did you see my dunk?" Emmett whispered in my ear, his enthusiasm was catching. He was like our starting center, after all. He reveled in the fun of the game, much like I did.

"I did." I gave him a slight smile. It was hard, being as I was in the competitive mood and didn't really feel like smiling, especially when we could lose our lead at any given moment in the next two quarters. "Were you trying to pull a Shaq over there?"

Emmett laughed at that, "No, do you know how _pissed _they'd be if I broke the backboard during a game?"

"Hey, it'd get you on a few highlight reels."

"And you would know about highlight reels, Mr. Big Shot."

I chuckled at that. "Sure, sure."

We rounded the corner and entered the locker room. Many of our teammates were untucking their shirts and letting out tired sighs as they collapsed in front of their respective lockers. I grabbed a paper cup full of Gatorade and made my way over to my locker, where I sat down and felt the tension ease from my legs.

Coach took his position on the floor in the middle of all of us. I took a swig of my drink and looked at him, carefully listening to what he was planning for us to do after half time.

He talked about different things - many of the things I had already predicted before - and I could feel my foot tapping in impatience. I wanted to get out on the court again, despite my tiredness.

Though I listened to all of what he said, I couldn't help but feel my mind wander to other things.

Things…like Bella.

I knew it wasn't very good…to be thinking about a girl during one of the most important games of the season, but I just couldn't help it.

I wondered if she was enjoying the game. I wondered if she was having a good time. I wondered if she was…watching me? Well, I figured she would've seen me if she was watching the game. Idly, I wondered if her friend had been jumped yet for his strange choice in wearing a Celtic green shirt.

I shook my head lightly, getting back into the game mode. I had to be at my best - physically _and _mentally - if we wanted to win against the Celtics today.

Despite my intentions, I found that every time I closed my eyes, I would see those angelic features of hers, and hope that she was thinking fondly of the game I had been born to play.

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_**End Chapter Eight.**_

_Whew! Well, that took longer than I thought. I just couldn't think about what I wanted to write for this chapter, and I finally got it going. So I hope that everyone likes this! I enjoyed writing an actual game scenario. Haha. I would love it if y'all would tell me what y'all thought about this chapter. Your opinions mean the world to me!_

_Thanks for reading!_

_(on a basketball related note, anyone watch the finals? that was insane! i was so glad that my Lakers won, but they did by the skin of their teeth!)_


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